


At the Edge of the Abyss

by timebean



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drama, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Psychological Drama, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-03-08 21:50:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 30
Words: 149,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3224705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timebean/pseuds/timebean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elissa Cousland has spent most of her life hiding a secret affliction, undergoing years of brutal tutelage to control her inner demons.  But with the Blight looming and her family massacred, her control starts to crumble.  Will she embrace who she truly is or destroy herself and everyone around her in the process? Who will be left to pick up the pieces after she breaks...the stubborn Highever knight who loves her, or the gentle Grey Warden who holds her to a higher code?</p><p>This is  my personal take on the events of DAO, but with a darker spin on the story (there is fluff too!).  Rated mature for a reason (language, violence, and eventual smut), but there is  a lot of cheese too, so it is a mixed bag. Multiple POVs to keep it interesting.  Read a few chapters and see what you think!<br/>Still a work in progress, so only posting the early chapters (but I have loads of stuff written for later chapters).<br/>Feedback is welcome, but I wrote this for fun more than anything!  Not beta'd, cause it is long and who has the time for that?</p><p>All characters belong to Bioware.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Loghain paced in front of the King. “Your father and I fought for years to keep those bastards out of Ferelden, and yet you open your gates to them! This is foolish, Cailan.”

The King shook his head. “It is not foolish. The Grey Wardens are sworn to fight the Blight. It doesn’t matter that they are Orlesians.”

“You are inviting a foreign army into Ferelden! A well trained, highly disciplined army who does not answer to any ruler in any land. And there is no evidence that this is a Blight. Merely an uprising of darkspawn, nothing more.”

“Our own Grey Warden commander thinks differently. The Grey Wardens are necessary to defeat the darkspawn. Whether it is a Blight or not, I want them here with us.” Cailan crossed his arms like a petulant child.

Loghain sighed, loudly. “Your Majesty, the dwarves fight darkspawn every day, without the Grey Wardens. If you must have them on the battlefield, then Duncan and his men should be enough. They are Ferelden, at least. We need to keep those Orlesians out! What would Maric say?”

Cailan stood. “My father is the one who believed in the Grey Wardens. I will send for the Orlesian reinforcements when we reach the south. You are my general, and the father of my wife, but I am the King. I want the Grey Wardens here, and that is final.”

Loghain bit his tongue. “Very well, Your Majesty. The darkspawn outbreak in the Kokori Wilds is growing. Our men are ready to march to Ostagar. Let the Grey Wardens meet us there. We cannot wait for them.”

“Agreed. Duncan is rallying new recruits to join the order and will meet us there with his Ferelden forces. Now, if there is nothing more, I would like to rest a while.”

Loghain stood, signaling to his commander to follow him. As they walked down the hall, she spoke to him. “Does he really intend to just let the Orlesians march in here? After they occupied this country for over a hundred years? What does your daughter say to this?”

“Unfortunately, he is the King, though Anora has more sense in her little finger than our King. Maric would never have done something so reckless. His son is fascinated with legends. It is no matter. Cailan won’t send for the Orlesians until after we reach Ostagar. I will make him see reason before then.”

“And if he doesn’t see reason?”

“Then Maker help us all.”


	2. Highever

“Maker, prepare a place for us."

Elissa stood in the rear of the chapel, behind the rows of solemn knights. She tried not to yawn as Mother Mallol continued her sermon.

"Redeem our world from sin and forgive our transgressions. Watch over our brave knights as they battle the evil that threatens this land.”

Elissa rolled her eyes. _What they need is good steel and ability_.

“Creator of the sky, the land, and sea, hear your people in their time of need.”

“Maker watch over us.” The knights responded. Elissa stretched her neck, trying to see if Fergus was among them. _Not likely…he’s probably having a few drinks before he rides off._

“Let no man have cause to fear the shadows. Let their souls be lifted to await your return.”

“Maker forgive us all.” The knights chanted in return.

Elissa started tapping her foot. She could see Oriana and Oren kneeling with the men. _How much longer is this going to take?_

“Andraste, bride of the Maker, turn your gaze upon us and hear our prayers in your name.”

Elissa caught Oren sneaking a peak back at her. She winked at him and he giggled. Oriana elbowed him and he quickly bowed his head again.

“So let it be.”

_Finally_. Elissa made her way past the knights who were filtering out through the chapel. Several of then nodded to her and she nodded back. When she reached Oriana, the Antivan woman looked at her and smiled. “I am surprised to see you here, sister. I thought you did not believe in the Chantry’s teachings.”

“It’s not a question of belief Oriana. I simply think it’s not worth my time to pray to a god who is miffed because some mages snuck into his house thousands of years ago.”

Oriana smiled. “The Chant of Light says the Maker will return once we all believe in him. You are not helping the rest of us, you know.”

“Even better! A deity who throws temper tantrums is probably not much fun anyway. What do you think Oren?” Elissa looked down at her nephew.

The little boy looked up at her. He had Fergus’s brown hair and freckled nose and Oriana’s large green eyes. “I think the Maker is boring. Andraste had a flaming sword, though!”

Elissa smiled. “Yep. And then she was burned alive by her own husband. What does that tell you?”

“Elissa! You’ll give him nightmares!” Oriana scowled.

Elissa laughed. “You have no idea the stories I tell him when you aren’t around.”

Oriana rolled her eyes. “You Fereldens! I will never understand you. Between you and Fergus, Oren can barely go to sleep at night talking about swords and monsters.”

“And griffons!” said Oren, excitedly. “Grandfather told me that the Grey Wardens rode griffons into battle.”

Elissa laughed again. “Sadly, there are no more griffons. But maybe one day you can find a flaming sword.” She rubbed his head and looked at Oriana. “I am on my way to practice. Fergus will ride soon with his men, lucky devil. Have you two said your goodbyes?”

Oriana looked troubled. “I don’t like this, Elissa. Riding to battle other men is one thing. Riding to battle darkspawn…victory seems so uncertain.”

“The darkspawn won’t hurt Fergus. Between your prayers and my hitting him over the head with my practice blades since we were children, I think my brother has all he needs.”

Oriana laughed. “Yes…addled brains and hardly any sense.”

Elissa laughed again. “No, he was like that before I started beating him. And you married him, so what does that say about you?”

Oriana let out a sigh. “It explains why I pray.”

<<>>

“You go and find that girl and make her get that mutt! He’s destroying my larder!”

“Calm down, Nan. Maybe I can try to get him…”

“Oh no, _you_ will just make it worse! That hound only listens to _her_. Find her, now!” The old cook turned her wrath on the elven servants. “You two, what are you standing around for? Get this kitchen prepped!”

Roland shook his head left the old woman to yell at the servants instead of him. Master Guran had already sent him to track down Elissa for practice and now he had to not only find her, but deal with the dog mess in the kitchen.

He walked quickly down the hall.

He spotted Elissa standing with her mother in the breezeway. He noted how similar they were in appearance, both with long blond hair and delicate features. The Teryna’s hair was wound about her head in an intricate braid, with delicate pearls and petals woven in to complement her elegant gown. Elissa wore leather pants and boots with a studded leather jerkin over a simple linen shirt, two belts crossed at the waist to hold a throwing knife on one hip and a small satchel on the other. Her hair was pulled up in a simple, messy knot, held in place by a sharp pin. Roland knew that Elissa was as deft at throwing that pin as the knife at her hip. He also knew she had several small pins hidden in her leather arm guards and likely a few more things hidden in her high boots.

Roland had to smile. He knew that as a noble woman, Elissa had learned the art of needlepoint at a young age, sitting in a circle with the women of the household and mastering the subtleties of the craft. But while the other women worked on stitching designs in pillows, Elissa learned to fashion holsters and hidden pockets in her clothing. The Teryna was content, as long as Elissa did something that remotely resembled the feminine arts.

Roland continued smiling as he fingered the hidden pocket she had fashioned for him to attach to the inside of his steel vambraces. Just like her appearance, her talents lay in the art of necessity rather than beauty. Not that she wasn’t beautiful…she simply had no need to embellish what was already there.

He noticed she already had her two short practice swords on her back, held in place by the leather straps that crisscrossed in front of her chest. _Maybe we will make to practice in time after all._

Both women stood with their arms crossed, glaring at one another.

_Stubborn northern women_ , he thought as he walked towards them.

“And I want you to look presentable this evening, Elissa. Do not wear your weapons at the table. Arl Howe will be here and I don’t want him making comments about how wild you are. I personally don’t like the man, but he has two sons that could make an excellent match for you. I know you don’t care much Thomas, but Nathaniel is older and very attractive from what I hear. We need to keep up appearances or you will never marry. I also have guests of my own coming, and I want you at your best.”

Roland’s shoulders stiffened. More marriage talk. Elissa’s mother had been inviting all the families with eligible sons to the castle for months now. Elissa was nineteen and they were desperate to get her married soon.

Roland did not like it.

Obviously, Elissa didn’t either. “You do realize we are in the middle of a war, right?”

The Teryna sighed. “Don’t be a simpleton, Elissandre! I have been watching my son and husband preparing to march for days! And this is not a war, it is an uprising of darkspawn in the south.”

Elissa crossed her arms. “I have to focus on protecting our home, mother. The last thing I need is some befuddled suitor trailing after me. And besides, if one really wanted to impress me, they should march with Fergus and father.”

The Teryna was stern. “You think too much of battle. There is more to a good man the ability to swing a sword, Elissandre. Your temper is too wild. You need someone more diplomatic than a mere solider.” The Teryna saw Roland approaching. “You try to talk some sense into her, Ser Gilmore.”

Roland raised his eyebrows. He didn’t really want to make any comment on this subject. “I…believe there are men who possess both bravery and diplomacy, my lady. The Teryn, for example.”

Elissa laughed. “Very persuasive, Ser Gilmore. You heard him mother. Find me someone like father, someone with wit, diplomacy, and valor. I’ve yet to meet such a man from those you’ve been parading me in front of.”

The Teryna shook her head. “You are growing up too fast, Elissa. Your options will run out if you continue to scare off every man you meet.”

Elissa scowled. “Then find me my equal and I will marry him. Until then, I am late for practice, mother.”

Roland spoke up. “Tellux broke into the larder again, my lady. Nan is furious.”

Elissa rolled her eyes. “When is Nan not furious? Come, let’s take care of it and get to the yard, or Guran will have our hides.”

“Be sure to kennel Tellux, Elissa.” The Teryna said. “There are too many strange men running around, and I don’t want him deciding one of the Amaranthine guards would make a good snack.”

She kissed her mother on the cheek and turned to walk with Roland towards the kitchen. “Maker, will she ever stop with the whole marriage thing? I have more important things to think about than impressing noble boys.”

“Tis your duty, I suppose.”

“It is my duty to bring honor to my family. Fergus does this by riding to battle. I am expected to do it by batting my eyelashes at simpering idiots.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you bat an eyelash, my lady.”

Elissa laughed. “It would be more effective if she let me choose my husband through trial by combat. Let the man best me then carry me off as his prize.”

Roland smiled. “Then I doubt you would ever marry, my lady.”

She laughed again. “Exactly.”

They made their way to the kitchens. Nan was furious. “Get that blasted beast out of my larder! It is a shame that you let the animal do whatever he pleases!”

Elissa sighed. “What am I to do Nan? He’s a mabari, with a mind of his own.”

“I don’t want to hear those excuses! He only listens to you and I have to start preparing the dinner. We have a castle full of hungry soldiers and if I can’t get them food, they march with empty bellies!”

Roland tried to soothe the old cook as Elissa opened the door. “Tellux, to me!”

The mabari came running out. He was a huge beast, more muscle than a normal dog, and a large jaw that marked him as mabari. He was brown with subtle black striations along his forelimbs. Roland knew mabaris were bred for battle, but he had known this animal for many years and had no fear of him. Mabaris were highly intelligent, and Tellux was a rare creature even amongst his own kind. He reached down to give his head a rub and noticed there was blood on his muzzle. “It looks like he’s been fighting with something.”

Roland and Elissa looked in the larder and saw several large rats lying dead on the floor. “It looks like he was protecting your kitchen, Nan,” Elissa said with a satisfied smirk.

Nan looked in the larder. “He’s probably the one who drove them in there in the first place. Out of here, all of you! I need to clean this mess up! Out!”

Roland and Elissa took Tellux to the kennels, snickering about Nan as they walked. Elissa knelt down to her mabari when they reached the kennels. “Tellux, I have to lock you up for the evening so I can don a dress and say goodbye to my father.”

Tellux whimpered and looked up at her in supplication. “I know boy, but I promise that I will visit you after dinner. You and I will go hunting in the morning. Deal?”

The mabari licked her hand and followed the kennelmaster, though he didn’t seem too happy about it.

Elissa sighed. “I hate locking him up. This is his home as well, you know. And some of these Amaranthine guards could do with having a bite taken out of them. My mabari has more sense than any of them.”

Roland had to agree. “An undisciplined lot. They came in a larger number than I would have expected. Is Arl Howe worried he is going to be attacked?”

Elissa’s brow furrowed. “Keep an eye on them Roland. There will be more of them than us when Fergus and his men leave. I don’t like being outnumbered, even amongst allies.”

Roland nodded. “We best get to practice. Guran was adamant that we all be there today. He must want to make sure he isn’t sending any unprepared knights to the south.”

“Well, considering you and I are staying here, perhaps we could just skip it. We could grab a bottle of whiskey and stay with Tellux in the kennels. Then we could all howl at the moon in our frustration at being left behind.”

Roland looked shocked. “Skip…practice? I don’t think…”

She laughed. “You know Roland, one day I am going to teach you to laugh.”

Roland smiled. “And one day I will persuade you to be serious.”

<<>>

Duncan stood in the gallery overlooking the training yard. The sword master of Highever, Guran, was bellowing orders to the knights, issuing instructions and criticism where needed. It was clear he had chosen his best knights for this exhibition.

_I hope I find some talent here,_ he thought. His travels had lasted over a month and he found only two recruits. Daveth was sharp and quick and Ser Jory from Redcliffe seemed honorable enough. _But I need something more_ , he thought. _Someone with fire and strength, but tempered with a powerful will. Someone unafraid of sacrifice._

He watched the displays for a while, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. The knights were disciplined and far from unskilled, but they lacked creativity. They were strong, worthy knights, yet not one possessed the raw energy needed for a Grey Warden. Duncan sighed. _Two is better than none…it will have to do._

He turned to leave when he heard a commotion in the yard. A young woman and a red-faced knight came running up to the sword master. Duncan watched the exchange.

“So, ye think you’re too good to come to my practice in a timely fashion, young miss. Mayhap the bustle of the castle is too distracting for you to remember your training? Too busy at your dressing table to think of blood and battle, eh?”

The young woman eyed Guran seriously, but Duncan noted a hint of a smirk on her countenance. He couldn’t see her eyes from his vantage point, but her hair was blond and full, pulled up into a simple knot on her head. She was a small woman, but stood with her shoulders back, her left leg slightly behind the right. On her back hung two small swords that were more like long daggers, obviously custom made for her, with blunted ends for practice. She rested her weight on her back leg and leaned back slightly to look up at the sword master without inclining her head. _Good,_ he thought _, she keeps_ _her peripheral vision at the level of the other knights in the yard_. Despite her relaxed stance, Duncan noticed she held her arms slightly away from her body, prepared to draw her swords at any moment. _Alert and ready, but not overly so. Good_.

“My dressing table is covered with dust as you well know Guran. I simply wanted you to get these knights warmed up before I arrived.”

“Hmpf. And what of you Ser Gilmore? Will you allow this sort of lax conduct when you and your men are all that is left to guard this castle?”

“Of course not Master Guran. My delay was…ummm…”

“Oh, he was trying to find me to save me from your wrath, master Guran. Ser Gilmore’s intentions were honorable, as they always are, though his persuasive ability could do with some work”. She smiled full at Ser Gilmore and Duncan noticed how the knight straightened his shoulders and tried to hide his own smile.

“All right, enough jabber. Let’s get on with it. Since both pride and laxity are at fault here, you will be punished for both. Hallene, Tresworth, Bulwert, and Culver! Teach them a lesson!”

Duncan watched as the four knights came onto the field to engage the two latecomers. Ser Gilmore immediately turned his back towards the girl in a protective stance and brought his shield down, crouching and waiting for the attack. He was steady and calm, seemingly unconcerned about the unfair advantage.

The girl pulled the two daggers from her back, so fast that all Duncan caught was a blur of movement. She moved slightly away from Ser Gilmore as the knights circled them. Her arms were in constant movement, the small swords flying around her in arcs. Duncan noticed that she kept changing up the movements, creating confusing shapes with her blades, all the while providing herself with protection.

The knights circled the pair, attempting a two-on-one offensive strike. The two knights near the girl approached warily, trying to find a way past her blades. Before they could attack, however, she let out a cry and charged the one to her left. In three short strides she reached him. The engagement was swift and furious, the poor knight unable to keep up with her quick movements. She had him to the ground in the blink of an eye. In the same instance, Ser Gilmore rammed his shield into the attacker on his own left, knocking him to the ground. Before the knight on his right could react, he turned swiftly and brought his sword down in hammer blow that sent the knight down hard. He turned to the assist the girl and saw she had already turned her attentions to the last knight, dodging his clumsy attack easily and then bringing her blade down hard on his wrist, relieving him of his sword. At the same moment, Ser Gilmore spun and hit the knight with the side of his shield. The shield passed only inches over the girl’s head, but she stayed crouched, as if she knew what was coming. The knight fell in a crash of armor and curses.

Duncan noticed that as this was going on, Guran motioned quietly to another fighter, a tall, proud man with dark hair and a devilish grin. He walked quietly up behind Ser Gilmore and the girl.

“Down!” cried the girl to Ser Gilmore, who immediately fell forward to escape the blow. _Interesting_ , thought Duncan. _She knew he was there without looking_. As Ser Gilmore fell forward, the girl turned swiftly and caught the sword with her dagger. After a quick parry, she spun and came across on the right side of the new opponent with her other dagger. He deftly dodged the blow with his shield, knocking the dagger from her grasp, and came down with an overhand strike. She dropped and rolled on the ground, the blow barely missing. As the knight continued towards her, she grabbed a handful of dirt and flung it in his eyes. He staggered for only a moment and she jumped to her feet to attack with her remaining blade. But the knight was also quick, blocking the dagger thrust with his heavy sword and turning it out of her hand. As he came towards her for the killing blow, she ran straight towards him, planting one foot on his shield and spinning in the air to kick him soundly in the face with the other. Her aim was true, but the knight remained standing, though stunned. As soon as she hit the ground, however, she swept her leg into the back of the knight’s calves, sweeping him from his stance in one swoop. As he fell, she grabbed one of her daggers and mounted him, holding the blade under his neck.

“Do you yield, you silly knight?”

Duncan let out his breath. _She is amazing_! _Still raw, but skilled nonetheless. The energy and creativity are there._ _And she is so fast!_

“Yes, yes! Get off me you mad woman!” She let out a laugh and jumped up, giving her hand to the fallen knight.

“Father always said not to trust a woman with a blade, especially you Elissa,” said the knight as he rose.

“Father says many things, though I am surprised any of it gets through that thick head of yours." They both laughed as the other knights came out and clapped her on the back.

The sword master spat on the ground. “Impressive, my lady, though if it were real fighting, your aggressive behavior would have likely gotten you killed.”

“True indeed Guran, and yet...when outnumbered, it is best to abandon strategy for the element of surprise…don’t you think? In fact, all strategy would have been for naught, given the fact that you had Fergus waiting for me in the shadows.”

“I couldn’t resist, sis,” purred Fergus. “Someone has to get the better of you at some point, or you’ll never learn how to deal with defeat.”

“A lesson I am still waiting to be taught, it seems.”

“Hah! Well further lessons must wait till my return. I am leaving in the hour with the men, and will likely not see you for a while.”

“I wish I could go with you and father, Fergus,” she said seriously. The men around them began forming into groups at Guran’s commands, giving the siblings a moment to talk. “But I suppose freezing in the southern rains will be your punishment for leaving me behind.”

“Very true. And I won't even have the comfort of wenches to warm me. Oriana would no doubt poison me upon my return!” Fergus laughed heartily at his own joke. “I am counting on you to keep her company while I am away. Try to keep her mind from dark thoughts. And…” he faltered for moment. “Protect them for me, sister. Keep them well until my return.”

Duncan watched closely as the lady stared intently at her brother. She put her hand upon his shoulder and spoke very quietly, so softly that Duncan had to strain to hear her. “I will not fail you or yours, brother. I would happily give my life for them. You know this.”

Fergus reached up and grabbed his sister’s hand from his shoulder, holding it tight. He nodded once and turned from her to gather his men in preparation for travel. Duncan did not see him again.

He watched for a while as the girl, who he now realized was Elissandre Cousland, sparred with the remaining household knights. The more he watched her, the more desperate he was to recruit her. She was smart and well-respected and even more, she had her own style of fighting, one well-suited to agility rather than strength. _She would be a terror against the darkspawn,_ he thought. Ser Gilmore was a fine candidate as well, but Duncan noticed he was overly cautious, though he had strong natural talent. He could be a valuable asset. Fergus was also quite skilled, even though his sister _had_ defeated him, but he lacked the intensity of the other two. And of course, Duncan knew he would be cast out of Highever, and possibly Ferelden altogether, if he attempted to recruit the Teryn’s heir.  

“Lady Elissandre!” An elven servant ran onto the yard. “Forgive the intrusion, but your mother bids me to tell you that you must prepare for this evening, as she has guests who have just arrived.”

“Any guests who seek my company would do better to come here instead. Here amongst the bravest of Highever is where the true entertainment is!” The knights yelled in agreement, knocking their swords against their armor.

“Yes…my lady…but…” the eleven servant looked nervous.

“Oh come now Mashela! I’m only teasing you. I wouldn’t send you to face the wrath of my mother alone.” The servant looked visibly relieved. Sheathing her daggers, Elissandre turned formally to the sword master and bowed. “Although I would rather feast on blood and dirt, I am required to suffer silk and perfume. Have I your permission to quit the field?”

“Oh off with ye, pup. Next practice, I’ll give you five knights for supper. See if that will satisfy.”

She laughed as she walked away “I doubt that, Guran. I have a healthy appetite!”

Duncan watched her leave and couldn’t help but smile at the exchange. He knew that as a noble, she was virtually untouchable in such tenuous times. Yet she was exactly what he needed. _This won’t be easy_ , he thought. _But then again, nothing ever is._

<<>>

Elissa let Mashela put the final touches on her hair. She hated being in a dress. Not because she had anything against looking the part of Teryn’s daughter. She was secretly proud of her looks and could tell that most men were…appreciative. She inherited her mother’s pale yellow hair, which was long and full, with soft natural waves. Her eyes were as dark blue as her father’s eyes were light, almost black unless light was on them, and she knew that the color added an intensity to her gaze. Her eyebrows were thick, but feminine, and darker than her hair. Her petite frame was defined by lean muscle, though her breasts and hips had developed enough in the past few years to grace her figure with the curves to highlight her femininity.

The truth was, it just felt uncomfortable to be without some kind of armor. Her mother always insisted she wear a dress for formal dinners. As a compromise, she was allowed to wear a leather vest over those dresses, as long as they had embellished stitching to please her mother and at least show some attempt at femininity. This allowed her a few hiding places for her smallest knives, which made her feel more comfortable. Nonetheless, leather boots were absolutely forbidden at the dinner table, and the suede shoes with their ridiculous little heels made her feel like she was walking on a tightrope.

But tonight was too much. Her mother had insisted she wear a white silk dress with a deep blue cloak of crushed velvet. No vests, no hiding places. Just silk and perfume and silliness. Leather breeches, boots, and daggers…these things felt like freedom to her. This dress made her feel trapped.

_If anything happens, I’ll just get tangled up in all this fabric_.

“Enough Mashela! If you add one more curl, I swear I’ll dunk my head in the pig trough and go down soaking wet to dinner!” Mashela shook her head and finally stopped her fussing.

“Teryna Cousland has invited young Daeron and his mother to dinner tonight. You know how anxious she is for you choose a husband soon. And that Daeron is quite dashing.”

Elissa moaned. She normally would have some quip to say about the preposterous notion that a man is what she needed to complete her life, especially a silly oaf like Daeron. However, she had other things on her mind. She had been feeling uneasy these past few hours, especially after being told that Arl Howe’s men were delayed.

*****

Her father had been in the main hall earlier, and she had stopped to speak with him before preparing for the evening. She didn’t realize Rendon Howe was with him until it was too late to turn and leave.

“Elle, come say hello to Arl Howe”

Elissa had taken a quick scan of the room. _Good_ , she thought, _at least his buck-toothed son Thomas isn’t with him_. “Hello Arl Howe. I trust your family is well?”

Howe made a quick bow and answered her, his oily voice implying that talking to her was beneath his dignity. “Ah, Elissa. They are in good health. And you are looking as lovely as ever. I see your mother in you.”

“Ha!” her father laughed. “I see you neglect to note my features in that face. Though I thank the Maker she favors her mother more than me. Otherwise it would be impossible to get her married off!”

Elissa quickly changed the subject. “Are your men ready to march Arl Howe? My brother is gathering his forces as we speak.”

“Alas, my men have been delayed. We will likely not be able to march until tomorrow or the day after.” Howe turned to her father. “I apologize for the delay, it is entirely my fault.”

“No need, Howe. I am sure there will be plenty of battle left for them.” Her father turned to her. “Best that you get up to your room. Your mother gave me strict instructions not to let you dawdle, and she is not a woman to be gainsaid.”

Elissa smiled at her father. “As you said father, there is much of mother in me”.

*****

Since then, she had a nagging feeling about all of it. What reason could there be for a delay? Why had Howe brought such a large squadron of household guards with him?  Moreover, her mother had asked her to kennel Tellux for the night to keep him out of the way of all the guests. Without her mabari, she felt…exposed.

She tried to calm herself. _Fergus has left for battle and here I am fretting over Howe and missing my dog_. She stood and looked at herself in the mirror. Her dark blue eyes stared back at her beneath a crown of pale yellow curls. The blue of her cloak caught the blue in her eyes and made them shine. _I will be here alone, once mother and father leave. I must stay focused and strong. I will not fail them._ Still…she could not quiet her darker thoughts.

“My lady, it is time to go down.”

Elissa arrived in the dining hall to find her father talking intently to a strange man. He had dark hair and black eyes, and leathery brown skin that did not look like it belonged in a castle. _He looks as though he is from some wild place…or at least, has been often in such places_. _But there is something northern about him as well._ He stood with quiet dignity, but did not look noble born. Still, her father’s pose seemed to suggest a deep respect for the man. Curious, she moved in their direction, but was stopped by her mother’s voice.

“There you are at last Elissandre. You remember Lady Sybil, I presume?” Her mother stood next to a simpering woman with circles under eyes and lips already red from wine.

Distracted, Elissa blurted out “How could I forget? Weren’t you drunk the last time we met?”

Her mother sighed, “I am so glad we have taught our daughter the importance of diplomacy and tact.”

“Oh it’s all right,” drawled Lady Sybil. “It was a lovely salon…at least…what I remember of it.”

“Very little, I expect mother, since I basically carried you home,” Daeron said as he approached their group. Her mother took Lady Sybil to show her to her seat in the hall while Elissa stayed with Daeron. She noticed he had gotten much taller and thicker around the shoulders since she last saw him. _Dashing indeed_ , she mused.

Daeron noticed her look and smiled. “I take it your maid forced you into all those curls to impress little old me. I assume our mothers have been plotting again to try to get us to wed. Yet for all their schemes, little do they know that you and I dislike each other immensely.”

Elissa had to smile. She met Daeron several years ago and he tried to woo her with his poetry. She wasted no time in telling him how boring and foolish he was and he let her know how unladylike he found her. Since then, whenever they met, they had a laugh and kept up the insults for fun.

“Well, it gives them something to do to occupy their time. And what of you Daeron? You look as if you have been in the yard more often than a poet should. Have you finally given up verse, sparing all of Ferelden the agony of hearing them?”

“Hardly, though I have been getting a bit if exercise. I have discovered that one writes much better poetry if one…dabbles in a bit of debauchery now and then. I have become a veritable rogue…almost notorious really.”

Elissa laughed out loud. “I find that hard to believe Daeron! You have the charm of a lizard!”

“And you the charm of a sow! Though, to be truthful, I have only been with two women. But they seem to enjoy it, and have wasted no time in offering me the instruction I need to pleasure the opposite sex. Both are positively insatiable! They keep me so busy that I find myself needing to eat more to keep up my strength and well…this is the result.”

“And just what have they taught you, Daeron? Do feel free to sully my ears with your tales. All the other men think me too innocent to let me in on the secrets. You however, rogue that you’ve become, would not keep secrets from an old friend, would you?”

“Well, to be fair…it is something that…well, you have to try it for yourself to understand.”

“Hmm…” Elissa mused for a moment. She had been giving a good deal of thought to that very subject recently. Hours upon hours of grappling with men in the yard had given her some sense of what it must be like. But to actually know, to actually do it would be something new. She looked up at Daeron, who had a strange look in eyes.

“If you wanted to try it for yourself,” he teased, “you could do worse than me. I…have enough experience to know what I am doing and enough dislike of you to do it without falling madly in love with you.”

Elissa was used to this sort of banter with Daeron, and knew he was half joking. Yet what he proposed was something she secretly wanted, though not necessarily with him.

She had thought of asking Ser Gilmore, her closest friend, if he would consider…instructing her on the fundamentals. She knew from gossip around the castle that he had a few lovers over the years, though he had never formed a real attachment with anyone. The women he visited were widows who were still young enough to want companionship but old enough to be discreet. Nonetheless, nothing was a secret in Highever, and she had heard high praise of his…qualities. He was also one of the few people she trusted completely. Not to mention, he was a very attractive man. Serving girls always giggled whenever he passed, and they would whisper about him as they watched him in the training yard. Yet he was not vain, which made him even more attractive. But Elissa knew him too well. He was not the sort of man to take such matters lightly, especially where she was concerned. 

_No_ , she thought _. I could not ask him to lie with me and forget. He could not._

“I think our mothers want us to take our seats, Lady Elissandre,” said Daeron, somewhat disappointed at her seeming lack of interest.

She stopped him. “How would you like to meet me in my room tonight, after dinner?” She had no idea where this boldness came from. What if he was only joking? She immediately felt like a fool.

He looked shocked. “Are you…I mean…is that what you really want?”

She looked at him. He was tall and strong and his hair the color of fire. He was all Ser Gilmore was in appearance, yet without the seriousness of her favorite knight. “Yes, Daeron. I do.”

“Then…” he shuffled his feet, trying his best not to blush. “Then I will be there.”

She watched as he walked a bit unsteadily to his table. She wondered if she had made a mistake. Thinking it over, she decided she liked the idea. She felt this is how it should be. Her own choice. One thing less she would be bound to give to whomever she had to marry. This was hers and hers alone.

_In any case, it will good for poor Daeron as well,_ she thought _. After all, isn’t deflowering virgins the very stuff of great poetry?_

<<>>

Teryn Bryce Cousland watched as young Daeron walked away from his daughter. He noticed the poor boy looked a bit disheveled to say the least. He felt a bit of sympathy for him. How many suitors had she frightened away with her forthrightness? A dozen? More? _It seems she just added that young fool to the list._

Yet he couldn’t help but smile. He had raised his daughter to be strong, and perhaps he had overdone it a bit. She was a fierce fighter, he knew. He also knew she had the ability to be great leader, though she had yet to have that chance. The only thing that troubled him was her implacable nature. Once she decided something, it was difficult to change her mind or make her see reason. She also had a taste for theatrics which, while fun for stories, could shake the loyalty of her men.

Her affliction also added to her difficulties. Although he and the his wife had done much to quiet the gossip, and even went as far as to hire a private tutor from Antiva who specialized in such things, there were still whispers. It had been several years since her last…lapse…and her training had done much to help her control that particular problem. Still, it was always hard to undo any dark mark, especially for a noble woman.

_There is so much I still need to teach her. And yet, I ride for battle tomorrow. Time! There is never enough time!_

His thoughts turned to Fergus, already on his way south. Fergus knew how to laugh with his men, bolstering their confidence…sometimes even at his own expense. Fergus was…easy to love. He was affable and smart, and the men rallied around him. He would be an excellent Teryn when his time came.

It was true that Fergus was not as skilled as Elissa in combat. Her unique training made her a difficult foe and there was not a man at Highever that could match her in the training yard. But Fergus had the trust of his men and he won loyalty quickly. While the men respected Elissa, they feared her as well. They knew her quick temper and fearlessness, but such a combination often made men nervous. _I f only Elissa could learn that subtle distinction._ It was all well and good that she would go where most men dared not. And yet, what good would that do her if she could not convince them to follow her?

Elissa made her way to his side of the room, a questioning look in her eyes. 

“Elle, I want you to meet Duncan.”

Bryce noted the way her eyes searched the man, trying to gauge everything about him in one steady look. He had taught her the tricks of seeing into men’s hearts, of hearing the words they didn’t say more than those they did. He was curious to see how she would read this fierce man.

“Hello Duncan. It is a pleasure to meet you.” Bryce watched Duncan closely. He seemed much taken with Elissa, studying her as intently as she studied him.

“Thank you, Lady Elissandre. I had the pleasure of watching you practice in the yard today. You skills are most impressive. If I may be so bold, where did you learn to fight like that? Guran is an able master, yet none of the other knights possess your…unique talents. Have you received outside instruction?”

Bryce stiffened. Hiring an Antivan tutor had been explained away as a desire for their daughter to study languages for diplomatic purposes. Few knew of Vanithan’s true purpose in his years of tutelage. Even Bryce was surprised when the Antivan had first spoken to him of his intent to train their daughter to fight.

*****

The Antivan had been highly recommended by some more discreet friends of the Teryn. Nonetheless, Bryce had been suspicious about letting an Antivan into his home and allowing him unlimited access to his daughter. Yet, they had already worked with several mages from the Circle to help her, and this was in truth their last resort.

The Antivan had demanded to be left alone with girl, claiming that he needed to engage her without any distractions. He was also clear that his unorthodox methods, while efficient, would be painful for her family to witness. Bryce had adamantly refused until his wife convinced him they had no other option.

It took several days before Vanithan finished his assessment. He found Bryce in his study and said simply “The girl must begin training at arms immediately.”

Bryce was shocked. “You expect me to believe that the best thing for my daughter is to learn to use a weapon? Do you not understand the nature of her affiliation? She is deadly when the…black mood takes her. She has no will of her own. It would be foolish to train her with weapons.”

Vanithan sighed. “My lord, the child needs to learn to discipline her body as well as her mind. This ‘black mood’ as you call it is an affliction that affects both. She must learn to endure physical as well as mental shock on a daily basis in order to master her will over this thing. I have the skills to teach her many things, to help her suppress the rage within. But she must be able to do so under stress, or it will useless, for it is these very stressors that can bring this affliction to a head.”

Bryce began pacing the room. “And what happens when your training fails? What happens if a yard full of men witness this thing in her? Do you not understand that there are expectations surrounding a girl of her rank? I cannot have her problem become common knowledge.”

“My lord, you misunderstand.” The Antivan rubbed his eyes. “I am not saying you need to train her so that she can be a good noblewoman. I am saying she must train because if she does not, this thing could kill her.”

“What do you mean? The Circle assured us that this was not the result of a demon or creature of the Fade. They told us the affliction was completely of the mind.”

“Yes, that is true. But the affliction, if not controlled, could cause her to harm herself. I believe it surely will come to that. She told me of her…journey in the woods.”

Bryce hung his head. He remembered all too well the days spent looking for her. When they found her, she was covered in mud and blood, shivering and lost. Her fingernails looked to have clawed something, but they never found out what. She was only five years old.

Bryce looked at the Antivan. He seemed genuine, and had not hurt their daughter. It was true that many women trained, but it was not common amongst the nobility. And yet…if it could help her…

“Do what you must, Vanithan. If it will truly help her, then train her as you will.”

*****

Bryce was recalled from his memory by his daughter’s voice.

“I am not as strong as most of the men. Most of what I do just…feels right at the time. Call it instinct. I have also undergone…I…have learned much from my sister-in-law and mother on how to compensate for being smaller than the men.”

“Instincts such as yours are a valuable tool in my trade.”

“And what trade is that Duncan? You have the look of something…more than a knight, I think”.

“Elle,” broke in Bryce, “Duncan is Grey Warden. He is interested in recruiting _Ser Gilmore_ into the order.” Bryce put emphasis on Ser Gilmore’s name, disliking the interest that Duncan seemed to have in his daughter.

“A Grey Warden? I thought Grey Wardens no longer recruited, given that the last Blight was centuries ago,” said Elissa.

“I am afraid that we may have another one looming, with the darkspawn appearance in the south. It is best to be prepared. I am desperate to rebuild our forces here in Ferelden. Ser Gilmore shows great promise for our order. I also believe that you are an excellent candidate.”

Bryce was furious. “You would dare come into my house and attempt to conscript my only daughter to your ranks?”

“Not at all Teryn Cousland. I simply point out that there is no higher calling for any warrior. Thus, we only recruit those with extraordinary skills.”

Bryce tried to control his temper, but found it hard. His daughter was remarkable, and he felt the truth in Duncan’s words. Yet he could not bear the thought of her leaving Highever. Not yet, at least.

“Father, I am sure Duncan meant only to pay a compliment,” said Elissa, placing her hand on his arm. “Duncan, I appreciate your words, but my duty is to my kin. I am sure Ser Gilmore will make a fine addition to the Grey Wardens. He is the most loyal person I know, and well deserving of such an honor.”

“I am sure he will, Lady Cousland. I had no doubt I would find such talent in the land of my forbears.”

“So you _are_ northern then? I thought as much when I first saw you. You have the high cheekbones and posture of a northern man.”

Duncan smiled. “You see much, my lady. I grew up in the Coastlands, to the west of Highever when I was a boy. I played in these wild grasses with my sisters. The smell of grass always reminds me of home.”

Elissa tilted her head and looked closely at Duncan. “I have spent my whole life in the North, traveling only between Denerim and West Hill. The grasses go on forever, it seems. Surely the south has beauties as well?”

“I have seen much of Ferelden in my travels. Lake Calenhad is rich and deep and the smell of fish and salty air spreads for miles from its shores. The Brecillian Forest is wild and dark, full of mysteries. The Frostback Mountains are treacherous, but hidden in those steep cliffs are pools so clear you can see the bottom, and watch the delicate fish swim in them. All places have their own beauties, my lady. But it is the North that holds my heart and my sweetest memories.”

“You make me envious, Duncan. I wished to go with my brother as much to fight with him as to see the lands to south. I fear a woman has few options for travel, save their final journey to the home of their husband. I have poured over maps my whole life, dreaming of travel. Perhaps there will be time to hear your stories.”

Bryce interrupted. “Come, let us all sit and eat. I see Howe has finally made it to the dining hall and my wife looks annoyed that I have not taken my place yet.” Duncan bowed slightly and went to claim his place. Bryce led his daughter to her chair. 

“Father…” she began.

“Hush Elle,” he looked down into her eyes. _Such a deep blue._ She gazed back at him, steadily. _What was I thinking when I said she could not gain loyalty as easy as Fergus?_ Looking into her eyes, he saw something there that he had never noticed before. A raw sort of power.

Elissa looked troubled. “Father, are you all right?”

Bryce continued to look into her eyes, unable to form his thoughts into words. _Fergus will always hold his men with love and loyalty. But Elissa…she can hold them with her will alone. They will sink into her eyes and be her captives. They will follow her into doom, I think._

He shivered and touched her cheek, giving her a weak smile. He walked away from her questioning eyes to sit at the head of his table for the last time.


	3. Blood

Elissa laid awake listening to Daeron breathing. She was surprised at how sweet the night had been with him.

When he came to her door, he looked as if he half expected her to laugh at him. When she pulled him into her room, he almost stumbled in surprise. When she began taking off her clothes, she thought he might faint.

Though after that, things were more natural. Daeron’s lust was strong and he kissed her passionately, growing more and more intense as they lay together on her bed. She had seen naked men before, but had no idea how…big…their member could get. She was nervous and unsure what to do, but he was happy to show her and was very gentle when he first entered her. After the first pain, which was sharp and deep all at once, she began to feel a throbbing sensation that kept getting deeper and deeper. But before it could take hold of her, he spasmed and it was done. She was not disappointed, but then again, not all together satisfied. He fell asleep soon after and she felt rather lonely. She was still wide awake when the moonlight peeked in though her window.

_I am a woman now._

She rose from her bed to look out at the broad fields of Highever. The moon sat heavily over the yellow and green grass. She let her hands glide over her body, searching for any sign of change. Her arms and stomach were muscled still, her breasts, while more tender, the same as before. She noted the soreness between her legs, but it was really no different than the aches from training, although somewhat deeper. She wanted some confirmation of her new status as a woman, something more than the blood stains on her legs. These she had endured monthly since she was fourteen, so a little more really didn’t mean much to her.

 _I am woman, but I am still me._ She smiled at the thought, though it saddened her somewhat. She had always hoped her first time would be magical, and had heard it spoken of with a sort of reverence amongst the men. Perhaps it was because she did not love Daeron, but she wasn’t sure. Having never felt…strongly…for a man before, she had little to compare it to. She had kissed a few knights and one poor suitor whom she felt a little sorry for. But here she was, nineteen, and was only learning what it meant to be a woman. So far, she was unimpressed.

_To think, I have nothing more to look forward to. I will marry soon, and will give my body to another man for the rest of my life. It will be no different than this, I expect. How…disappointing._

She thought of Duncan. His descriptions of Ferelden stirred something deep in her, some longing she always had. To see the mountains! To sail on the mighty Drakon River. She longed to see more of the world. To know what lay beyond the Coastlands. Her brother had travelled beyond Ferelden in his youth, to Antiva and Orlais. She envied his freedom.

She stood quietly for a while, naked at her window, until the room became too cold. She did not want to disturb Daeron for a blanket, so she pulled on her breeches and shirt from the afternoon. Although they were soiled, they smelled like grass and dirt and it was comforting to her. Even though she had enjoyed lying with Daeron, his scent was unwelcome to her…a distraction from her thoughts.

She heard barking in the distance and realized that she forgot to visit Tellux in the kennels. _If I don’t go soon, he’ll howl all night._ She pulled on her boots and found her leather jerkin. Out of habit, more than anything, she grabbed her belts, which had the small knife and satchel hanging from them. She buckled them around her waist and quickly pinned her hair into a knot above her head.

Tellux’s bark tuned into a howl that froze her where she stood. She knew that howl. It was the dread howl of a mabari attacking. She listened and realized there were noises all through the castle, though most sounded far away.

“Daeron, wake up!” His eyes flew open and he sat up in the bed.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Shhh…listen. I think there is fighting in the keep.”

“Probably just men who didn’t stop drinking after the feast.” He wrapped the sheet around himself and went to the door.

“Wait!”

Daeron opened the door and made a short cry that ended in a gurgling sound. Elissa watched in horror as Daeron’s back exploded in a red burst of blood. Without thinking, she leapt over his body into the hallway and tackled the guard who held the sword. She drove her knife into his neck and twisted. Behind him was another knight, crouched low with a bow in his hand. She dropped to the ground and rolled as the arrow flew, missing her by mere inches, until she was just under the archer’s feet. She jammed her knife underneath his chin. As he jerked, still in his crouched position, she yanked the dagger free, blood spilling all over her face. She jumped up from the floor and looked in panic around the hall. It was empty.

 _Think, think, think!_ She realized the castle was under attack. She bent down and grabbed the guard’s sword, using a piece of his tunic to wipe the blood from her eyes and face. She noticed the uniforms for the first time. Howe’s insignia! This made no sense. Why would Amaranthine guards kill Daeron?

She heard footsteps on the stairs and stood ready to attack. Her mother came running from the dark hallway.

“Elissa!” Her mother stood before her, dressed in the studded leather armor that was usually displayed in the hall outside her private quarters as a reminder of her youth. Elissa noticed the blood splattered on her chest. She had a shortbow and a quiver of arrows on her back.

“Mother? What in the Maker’s name is happening?”

“Guards are running all over the castle, murdering our people! They are Howe’s men, Elissa!”

“He attacks while our troops are gone! We have to rally the remaining guard.”

“Ser Gilmore is already at work with his men. We have to find your father!”

“Wait, what about Oren and Oriana?”

“Andraste save us, I hope we are not too late!”

Both women ran across the broad hallway and threw back the doors to the Fergus’s chambers. Elissa froze in the doorway at the sight of little Oren lying in a pool of blood. Oriana was lying on the bed, her dress pulled up past her thighs, legs spread open, and blood soaking the sheets around her.

“No!” her mother screamed. The Teyrna fell to the ground and gently cradled Oren. Elissa remained in the doorway, unable to understand what she was seeing. She was aware that her mother was sobbing and rocking Oren's lifeless body, aware that the smell of blood was thick in the air. She was aware that her sister and nephew were dead. And yet, these things seemed remote, almost part of a dream. The one thing that was real, the only thing that she could really feel, was the pumping of her own heart. It drowned out all else.

_This cannot be happening, not now! Swim up, swim up! Find the surface!_

Elissa forced her legs to move. She walked calmly over to Oriana’s lifeless body, gently pulled her dress down, crossed her arms over chest, and closed her eyes with her fingertips. She looked down at her mother, avoiding the sight of Oren in her mother’s arms. When she was finally able to speak, her voice was thick and rhythmic, matching the sound of her heart.

“Come mother. We have blood to spill.”

Her mother’s eyes found hers. She looked panicked. “What of Lady Sybil and Daeron?”

“Daeron is dead and so is his mother, most likely. We must fight now. Ser Gilmore and his guards fight for the castle. We fight for vengeance.”

The Teryna looked at her daughter, her eyes widening in fear. Elissa knew her voice sounded dead. She knew somewhere in her mind that she should comfort her mother, offer words of encouragement. But she could not.

The blood had taken her and her mother knew it.

Elissa stared at her with empty black eyes, waiting for her to move.

“Elissa, we must find your father.” Her mother’s voice was calm and clear, yet desperate to reach her daughter.

“Yes. Without delay. No time to count.” Elissa’s voice was thick. And deadly.

The Teryna gently lifted Oren’s body and placed him on the bed next to his mother’s corpse. She bowed her head for a brief moment and then steeled herself for battle. She removed her bow from her back and notched an arrow. She nodded to her daughter, and they left the bloody room. As they began to walk, her mother asked “What did you mean by counting, Elissa?”

Elissa kept walking, her footsteps heavy and determined, her eyes as black as night. Without turning around she said “We will not count the bodies we leave on the way, mother. There will be far too many to count."

<<>>

Roland’s hands were aching from grasping his sword so tightly. His voice was raw from shouting orders. He had men barring the main entrance and others scouting the hallways to fight Howe’s men. He sent soldiers to find the Teryn’s family, but they had still not returned. _Elissa_ , he thought. _Where is she?_

He was conflicted. Duty demanded he stay and organize his troops here. Yet he longed to run to the upper floor of the keep and find her. _What if they attacked her first_ , he though miserably. _If she is gone, what is left here for me to defend?_

 _Your honor, son._ He heard his father’s voice in his head. He had not seen his father in more than ten years, yet he could still hear the voice that had sent him to Highever when he was a boy. _You cannot inherit this piss-poor holdfast. But it is for your own good, son. You must go and serve the Teryn of Highever. You will serve, you will fight, and you will die…but not for them. You will serve, you will fight, and you will die to protect your honor. That is all a man, rich or poor, has in this world._ _Honor._

*****

Roland clutched his pack in his hands, looking up in awe at the tall ceilings of the keep. He had never been in a place so grand or so big, and he was terrified. The guards sent him to the kitchens to get some food after his journey and he was desperately lost in the maze of hallways. As he stood there, trying to figure out which way to go, a young girl and a mabari pup came running up to him.

“Who are you?” the girl said. She was short and skinny and was wearing a boy’s tunic and breeches. She had long blond braids and one of them was coming loose. Her mabari was almost as big as her, but he didn’t growl at Roland, though he did sniff him.

“My name is Roland, Roland Gilmore. I have just arrived and have been sent to serve the Teryn.” He tried to sound confident, but his voice wavered a little.

The girl crossed her arms and looked at him. “And why would you want to do that? You know the Couslands eat their enemies don’t you? The Teryn and his wife drink wolf’s blood and their children are savage beasts.”

“That’s not true!” he said, though he was a little frightened. He had not yet met the Teryn or his children.

“Tis true! They are all monsters and run with fell beasts. My mabari and I are trying to escape, lest they eat us. You should come too.”

“I…cannot. My father made me swear to serve the Teryn and I must obey him.”

“Why? You do not know Teryn Cousland or his family. What if they devour you?”

“Then…I will die…honorably.” He was suddenly very afraid.

The girl looked at him queerly, head cocked to one side. She had large blue eyes. “You look hungry. Do you want to come with me to the kitchen? Nan always give me the best cakes, so long as I let her lecture me a little. But she is also a blood mage who devours young boys, so you might be eaten if you do.” She giggled and Roland realized she was picking on him.

“I think I can find it myself,” he huffed.

“Oh, come on. Don’t be mad. I’ll show you my father’s sword if you’ll forgive me."

He thought about it for a moment. “Alright…but only if you let me have the best cake, too."

“I promise.” She led him down the hall to the kitchen where Nan, after lecturing them for a full ten minutes, finally gave them a sack with cakes and cheese. They went to the yard and sat atop two barrels, eating and watching the knight’s practice. The girl told him the names of all the knights and stories of their deeds.

“I hope I am great warrior one day,” he said wistfully.

“I am sure you will be, Roland. And an honorable one too.” She reached into the sack and pulled out two blackberry tarts. She weighed them in her hands and gave him the bigger of the two. He smiled at her and she smiled back. “See…I have honor too."

*****

He heard fighting in the hall near the east door. Before he could issue commands, the door burst open and Howe’s men flooded the hall.

“Attack!” The blood was in him and his men. Battle was all around him. In the midst of the chaos, he saw blond hair out the corner of his eye. Roland would know that hair anywhere. _She is here! She lives!_

When it was finally over, he struggled to catch his breath, trying to make sense of the bodies lying around him. When he saw the two women, he ran towards them.

“Lady Cousland! My lady! I thought you dead for sure!”

Elissa’s eyes shot up to Roland. She looked like she was possessed, her eyes so black they looked like endless wells. She stepped towards him menacingly. “Death there has been, and more will come, knight. Where is Howe?”

Roland had never seen Elissa so incensed, at least not in many years. He knew the meditations she often undertook, to keep her darker nature at bay. Though few people in the castle knew of her affliction, Roland was her closest friend. He had seen this look before, the dark eyes, the inability to recognize friend from foe. And he also knew how hard she worked to control this part of herself.

She looked as if she barely recognized him. Her eyes were leaden. He knew she would not come out of this on her own, but there was no time to help her. And how could he? Men were pounding on the gates as they stood there.

Before he could answer, her mother moved and placed her hands gently on Elissa’s shoulders. “Calm your fury, daughter. We must find your father first.” The Teryna turned to Roland. “Where is Bryce, Ser Gilmore?”

“He is in the passage beneath the kitchen. He said he will wait for you there. The Grey Warden went with him. We are defending the main gate against Howe’s forces. The gates…will not hold long, I fear.”

“I will stay and fight with you.” Elissa’s eyes were intense again, though not as wild as when he first saw her. _She is coming back_ , he thought.

“No!” her mother cried. “Would you throw your life away? You will come with me to your father. We must escape while we have the chance.”

“No, mother. I will find Howe and destroy him.”

Roland spoke up. “My lady, Howe is not even in the castle. He told the Teryn that he was leaving to hurry his men and left several hours ago. The coward will not come back until the castle is taken.” Roland turned to the Teryna. “Lady Cousland, I can hold the door long enough for you and your family to escape. But they will break those doors down, and soon.” He looked back to Elissa, the panic rising in his voice. “I beg you both to leave while you can.”

“Ser Gilmore is right, Elissa. You must live to take revenge. We must go, now!”

Elissa nodded, the fury clear on her face. Her mother grabbed her arm and they ran through the madness towards the kitchens. Before they were fully out of sight, Elissa turned and caught his eye for a brief moment.

 _Kill them for me, Roland_ , those eyes said. _Kill them all._

 _Upon my honor, my lady, I will_ , thought Roland as he turned to face the main gate.

<<>>

Elissa was trying to breathe. She felt as if she was choking on her rage. Some small part of her mind kept trying to cut in.

_Say the words child, they will help you._

She could hear her Vanithan’s voice, smooth and hypnotic. She tried to remember the words he had taught her, tried to pull them from her mind.

_The darkness around you is a room, nothing more. A room without a door. A room without a light. A room that gets smaller and tighter with each breath. But it is all in your mind. You must will a door to appear. You must open it and find the dawn._

She struggled for breath. She could hear men running around her as she and her mother fled through the halls. But her mind was closing in again. She had to break through, to make it out of that room.

_It is lake, deep and dark, and you are underwater. You are flailing your arms, sinking, lost. You must calm yourself. You must swim towards the surface. You must find the light._

His voice was soothing, calm, as only an Antivan’s voice could be. Some part of her mind knew he was gone. He had left Highever years ago. But she could hear him so clearly, as if he were standing in front of her.

_You are in a deep well at midnight. The air is stifling and the walls slick with damp. But there is a rope dangling in the darkness. You must find it and climb out. You must seek the fresher air. Say the words, child. They will help you._

She breathed in again. She said the words with him. “A room with no door is no room. A lake with no surface is no lake. A well with no rope is no well. I am the door, the surface, the rope. I am the dawn, the light, the air.” She whispered these words over and over.

She could feel her herself rising out of her mind. The terrible sound of heart began to fade.

Her mother stopped, grabbing her arm. “Have you come back, Elissa?” They were in a dark hallway, the sounds of men running echoing from somewhere far away.

Elissa looked at her mother. “Forgive me mother. I…lost myself again. It was difficult to return this time.”

The Teryna placed her hands on her daughter’s face. “My sweet child, I love you so much. The darkness is a part of you, and you have beaten it many times. You will continue to do so…no matter what has happened here. Will you promise me this?”

Elissa’s eyes began to burn. Her chest was on fire, and she realized she had been cut. This was always the way when she came back. “Mother, I promise you…I…I will try.”

The Teryna grabbed her daughter for a quick hug. “Now come, your father should be at the end of this hall.”

When they entered the room, Elissa could smell the blood.

“Bryce!” Her mother ran to her father, who was lying in a dark pool. His breathing was ragged and his face as pale as the moon.

“I am sorry, Eleanor.” His voice was defeated. Elissa knelt beside her mother, who gripped her father’s hand desperately.

“Bryce, we must get you out of here, now. Howe’s men will find us any moment.”

Bryce reached a shaking hand up and touched his wife’s face. “I will not survive the standing, my love.” He looked to Elissa. “Elle. My daughter. I did not have enough time. You must find Fergus, tell him what has happened here.” He reached for her with his last remaining strength.

“We haven’t much time, Teryn Cousland.” Elissa looked up and saw Duncan standing behind them, his blades covered in blood. “I must take them now. They are coming.”

Elissa looked to her father. “Father, what does he mean? We must stay and protect you!”

Her father’s voice was haggard. “Elle, Duncan has recruited you for the Grey Wardens. He has the right, but moreover, he has my blessing. You must go with him and your mother. You must fight to end the Blight. And you must find your brother Fergus and leave it to him and the King to avenge our family. This your duty now.”

Tears burned Elissa’s eyes. “Father…I will do as you command. I love you, father.”

“Come my ladies. We must leave at once.” Duncan’s voice was determined.

“No," Eleanor said. Her voice was calm.

“My lady, we must go now if you and your daughter are to survive. The Teryn will not live.”

Eleanor turned to the warden. “You will take my daughter, Grey Warden. I will stay here and kill as many of those bastards that I can to help you escape. That is my duty.”

“Mother, no!” Elissa’s voice was panicked. She couldn’t let her mother die this way. “You must come with us!”

The Teryna turned to her daughter and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Listen to me, Elissandre Cousland. My husband lies dying on the ground. I swore when I married him that I would never leave his side. And I will not.”

“We must leave! Do not throw your life away on a vow! Father would not want it.” She looked down to her father for support, but his eyes were closed and blood was bubbling on his lips.

She touched her daughter’s cheek, gently. “Tis not for the vow that I stay, daughter. It is because I love him. One day, Maker willing, you will understand what that means.”

Elissa could hear men running down the hall. Her mother pushed her towards Duncan. “Go, now! Duncan, take her!”

Duncan grabbed Elissa and forced her through the cellar door. She turned for the briefest moment and saw her mother kneeling beside her father, her lips pressed to his forehead. Then, she turned and fled with Duncan into the darkness.


	4. Ostagar

Duncan adjusted the rabbit on the spit.

He looked over at Elissa. She stared into the fire with dead, lifeless eyes. It was already a week into their journey and she had yet to speak. The Bannorn was a desolate country, but they had to cross it to reach the Imperial Highway. They made good time, but still had far to go.

Duncan did not mind the silence. He had a great deal on his mind concerning the Blight, so he actually welcomed the silence for the first few days. But this had gone on long enough.

Elissa would hunt when he asked her to, would build the fire, saddle the stolen horses…whatever needed to be done. But she would not speak. When he asked her questions or tried to start a conversation, she would either turn her head away or look at him with a blank expression.

Nor did she cry. Not once.

Duncan was not sure if she was blocking it all out, or if she was suffering in silence, or if she was…broken. The only thing he did know was that she had to be strong. In this state, the Joining would surely kill her.

He decided to do something. He knew full well she might react violently. But he had no choice. They would be in Ostagar in three days.

He stood. “Elissa, you have been conscripted into the Grey Wardens. You must be prepared to become one of us when we reach Ostagar. It is your duty to face this thing in you and kill it.”

She did not respond.

“Your behavior is that of child. You cannot block out the world and expect that to solve anything. What happened is in the past. Let it go.”

Nothing but silence. Not even a flicker in the eyes.

 _Alright_ , he thought. _If you must have it this way, so be it_. “Your home is overrun with Howe’s dogs and here you sit in the middle of nowhere with a stranger. You have no home. You have no family. You belong to nothing.”

Her eyes flickered, but still she did not move.

“You failed to protect your family and cannot take responsibility for your actions.”

“Stop.” Her voice was emotionless.

“You are a disgrace to your homeland, a disgrace to the Cousland name. Men will spit when they hear your name. All will call you coward. And they will be right to do so.”

She stood quickly, the knife from her belt to her hand in a blink. “Quiet, Warden. I will kill you where you stand.”

“You broke the oath you made to your brother. You let his only son die. You let them rape his wife. You let your parents die for you and you couldn’t even…”

She leapt the fire that separated them, knocking the rabbit off the spit. Duncan was ready for her. He grabbed her wrist as she tried slice his throat, spinning her around and clutching her to him, her back against his chest.

“You failed them all, Lady Cousland. Everyone who loved you.”

She screamed, her voice terrifying the horses, who nickered and tried to break free from their ropes. She thrashed in his grasp, kicking, stomping his foot.

“You live and yet they lie cold, probably not even buried yet. Howe’s men likely paraded them through the castle, like puppets.”

“I will kill you, you bastard.” She was almost choking on her rage. Her body trembled with the strain of trying to tear herself from him.

“Kill me?” He spun her around hard, forcing her to face him. “I didn’t fail in my duty. You did. You should kill yourself now and end this farce.” He shoved her to the ground. Towering over her, he pulled his blade from his side and held it out to her. “End your suffering, my lady. Take your own life. It is worth nothing now.”

She stared at him. Breathing hard, she tore her eyes away from his and looked at the blade. The firelight reflected off the surface of the blade, creating a sliver of red in her black eyes.

“Will you do it? Will you give up your life in defeat? A coward who could not face her shame? A fool who could not look beyond her own suffering?” He held his breath, waiting for her to respond. _Now we see._

She stood, slowly, her eyes on the blade. She took a step towards it then faltered. She gazed at it for another moment, then looked up at Duncan.

“Keep your blade Duncan. I will not let death keep me from my duty.”

Duncan released his breath. “Then you will fight the darkspawn, you will fight to end the Blight?”

She looked at him puzzled for a moment. Then she laughed a mirthless laugh. “Yes, Grey Warden. I will kill the darkspawn. I will offer them up to my maker for forgiveness, if there is any for one such as me.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “I will protect Ferelden from the Blight to regain my honor, to reclaim my place amongst my fellow man. But Duncan…” she walked towards him until she was so close he could feel her breath as she spoke. “My duty is vengeance. It is vengeance alone that keeps me alive.”

Before he could respond, she quickly turned and picked the rabbit up from the dirt. Dusting it off, she replaced it on the spit. As she worked, she spoke. “We should sleep soon. As you say, we have many leagues till we reach Ostagar, and we should get an early start.”

 _Yes_ , thought Duncan. _She will survive._

<<>>

King Cailan paced excitedly at the gate. His scouts informed him that Duncan had returned with a new recruit, and he was anxious to meet them both.

Cailan had spent the last few days arguing with Loghain about preparations for the battle. He knew Loghain’s battle plan was solid, but the general kept insisting the Grey Wardens were unimportant. He hoped having Duncan back in camp would even up the arguments a bit. Anyone could see that Duncan was an honorable man, and the Wardens in camp were fiercely loyal to him.

Cailan saw the Warden Commander and his recruit coming towards him. The differences in their size was puzzling at first, until he realized the recruit was a woman. As they came closer, he finally recognized her.

 _Elissandre Cousland!_ She was renowned for her skill in battle, yet he was surprised that Bryce Cousland would allow his daughter to be recruited without at least petitioning him to have it stopped. Cailan had danced with Elissa on his wedding day, as it was custom for the King to dance with all noble women. She was, by right of her rank, the first woman he danced with that day. Of course, she was only a girl at the time, and not a very good dancer, but he had met her several times in Denerim over the past few years when she and her brother travelled on business for her father. Cailan had great respect for the Couslands, and from what he could tell, their youngest child embodied the forthright and willful nature of his northern subjects. 

Duncan approached the King. “Your Majesty, I did not expect…”

“A royal welcome? It is good to have you back in camp Duncan. There has been far too much grumbling since you have been gone. And I would not want to ride into battle without the mighty Duncan at my side, would I?”

Cailan looked down at Elissa. Her hair was a tangled mess and her eyes were darker than he remembered. She looked exhausted. “Lady Cousland, it is an honor to see you again. Your brother Fergus is leading a scouting exhibition in the wilds, but I am sure he will be overjoyed to see you when he returns.”

Elissa looked up at him, her eyes haunted. “I have no wish to see him soon, Your Grace.” She dropped her head, unable to finish.

Duncan’s word were swift and to the point. “Your Majesty, Highever has been betrayed by the Arl of Amaranthine. Rendon Howe and his men murdered the Teryn and Teryna. Lady Elissandre and I barely escaped with our lives.”

“What? How does he think he will get away with this?” Cailan began pacing, furious. The Couslands were powerful in the Landsmeet and had been strong supporters since his rule began. Arl Howe had no great army and little support from the other nobles. Cailen’s mind was racing. Who could have supported Howe in this treachery?

He looked at Elissa, realizing they were both expecting him to speak. “My lady, I am sorry for your loss. Howe will pay for this, I swear it. He will hang.”

She looked up at him, her face a mask. “I thank you, Your Majesty. My brother’s wife and son were also…” She took a deep breath. “Do you know when my brother will return?”

“I am not sure, my lady, but I will send messengers to him at once to call him back to camp. Most of his knights are with him, but there may be a few Highever soldiers in camp. Would you like me to take you to them?”

“Your Majesty, Elissa is a Grey Warden recruit. Although I will of course let her see her brother when he arrives back in camp, the affairs of Highever are no longer her concern.” Duncan’s voice was stern.

Cailan was shocked by Duncan’s manner. He saw that Elissa looked at him furiously, but said nothing. “As you say Duncan. Then I will inform the Highever men what happened if there are any in the camp.” The King looked at Elissa thoughtfully. “My lady, you must rest and bathe. My steward will see to it that you have everything you need.”

Duncan interrupted. “No need, Your Grace. I will have the wardens see to her arrangements. I have already sent Alistair instructions.”

Cailan deferred to him. “Of course Duncan. She is, as you say, a Grey Warden now.” He looked back to Elissa. “I know it will not lessen your grief, my dear lady, but I am thankful to have such a noble woman fighting with the Grey Wardens. You should be honored to join their ranks.” He turned to Duncan. “There has been no sign of the archdemon Duncan. I fear the battle will be over before it has begun.”

“Disappointed, Your Majesty?”

Cailan sighed. “I wanted this to be a battle like one of the tales. A brave king defeating a cursed god. But, I suppose this will have to do. No one gets everything they want, after all, eh Duncan?”

Duncan shifted his feet, clearly uncomfortable. He looked over at Elissa, whose eyes were staring blankly at the ground. “No Your Majesty. No, they do not.”

<<>>

“Daveth, you don’t actually believe that any woman would fall for that line, do you?” Alistair asked, watching the offended woman stomp away. 

“Why not? I figure if I try it on enough women, someone is bound to bite.” Daveth stopped rubbing his cheek, still red from the woman’s handprint. He elbowed Alistair. “And if a bite is all get out of it, it’s better than nothing, right?”

“Riiiiight. I’ll remember that if I see any of the female knights gnawing on you later.” Alistair shook his head. “I have to finish running these errands. Duncan is already back at camp, so keep your eye out for him. We’ll likely meet at his tent when he is ready. Try not to get…you know…eaten or anything.”

“Ha, not with these cold wenches about. You’d think they’d reciprocate more, given the darkspawn and all…”

Alistair moved on. He liked Daveth well enough, but he didn’t really have a lot in common with him. Plus, he was a cutpurse and a…womanizer. Ser Jory, the other new recruit, was a little too idealistic for his taste, but was a good enough sort of man. Duncan sent him a message from the gate, giving him a few instructions for the third recruit that just arrived in camp. Alistair hoped it was someone a little more disciplined that Daveth and little more fun than Ser Jory. _But best not to get too attached to any of them,_ he thought _, considering the Joining._

“Grey Warden! Come here if you please…at once!” Alistair knew who it was without turning around. Only one woman would say “if you please” and “at once” in the same sentence.

“Yes Revered Mother…er, how can I help you?”

“I need you to track down that… _mage_ …and tell him I must speak with him immediately.”

‘Well, I need to find the newest recruit and go to the armory before I meet Duncan so….” Alistair’s voice trailed off as he looked at the unamused face of the Revered Mother. “So…uhmm…I will be sure to take care of that for you right away, ma’am.”

“See that you do! These Circle mages are walking around here like they own the place.” She stood glaring at him until he made a quick bow and walked away. _Maker, did she take a switch to me when I wasn’t looking? I’ll be glad when we go fight the darkspawn_.

Alistair realized many days ago that camp full of knights, templars, mages, and chantry sisters was a battle waiting to happen…without the need for darkspawn. Add to that the constant barking of the ash warrior’s mabaris and the moaning coming from the healing tents…it was enough to drive anyone mad. Plus, the tension between Cailen's men and Loghain’s had resulted in several altercations already. _You’d think we’d all_ pretend _to be on the same side at least_. Most of the Grey Wardens stayed out of it all and kept to themselves, but Alistair was the youngest. That he meant he had to run around in all this madness to deliver messages, which meant he also ended up trying to keep the peace. _I can’t wait till the Joining is finished. Let Ser Jory run himself ragged delivering messages. Better yet, let Daveth try his lines on one of the chantry sisters…he’ll end up in stockades for sure._

It took Alistair a while to make it to the mage. He was stopped by a fellow Grey Warden determined to give him gossip about some highborn troubles to the North. Alistair finally got away from him to spend half an hour haggling with the King’s armorer to fulfill Duncan’s request for two small swords with the Grey Warden insignia.

“Make up your mind Warden. Is it swords you want or daggers?”

“Look, I don’t know why he needs them this length, but it’s what he asked for. Can you make them or not?”

“Seems like a waste of good steel to shorten two blades to this length. I’ll do it, but if your measurements are wrong, you still have to pay for ‘em.”

Alistair understood the swordmaster’s dilemma. _Who would need such small swords? Is his new recruit a dwarf?_

He finally made his way to the northern edge of the camp where he was told to find the mage. As he approached him, he could feel the pull of magic around him, like a tingling breeze on his skin. Before he realized he was doing it, he sent out a wave to block the mana. He had trained so long as a templar, that sometimes he did this without even thinking about it. Unfortunately, it disrupted whatever the mage was working on, who spun around to him furiously.

“What is it now?” he asked, biting off each word. “I will not be distracted from serious work by the likes of you.”

Alistair stumbled over his words, feeling guilty and annoyed all at once. “I was sent by the Revered Mother, Ser Mage. She…desires you presence.”

“What do I care what the Revered Mother wants? I am aiding the Grey Wardens…by the King’s orders, I might add.”

“Should I have asked her to write a note?”

“Haven’t we been civil to the chantry? The Circle will not suffer this harassment.”

Alistair was definitely annoyed. “Oh yes, I was harassing you by delivering a message.”

“Your glibness does you no credit.”

“And here I thought we were getting along so well. I was going to name one of my children after you…the grumpy one.”

“Enough! I will go and speak to that…woman. If I must.”

Alistair couldn’t help but be a little satisfied as the mage stomped away. As he watched him leave, he realized a young woman was standing near, waiting to speak with him. She had an odd stance…slightly leaned back to look up at him. The sun was behind her, so he didn’t clearly see her features at first. He approached her.

“You know, one thing about a Blight is how it brings everyone together.” He noticed she wore a dusty leather jerkin and by windblown state of her hair, had likely been travelling a few days. She didn’t say anything, but met his eyes with a questioning look. _She looks exhausted_ , he thought, _and not very happy_. “Wait, we haven’t met yet, have we? You’re not another mage are you?”

He noticed she slightly smiled as she asked “If I were, which child would you name after me?”

Alistair was caught off guard for a moment. Most women usually gave him an exasperated sigh as soon as he spoke. Of course, most of the women he had ever spoken to were chantry sisters. “Hmmm…let me see…” He looked at her closely, trying to puzzle out who she could be. Not a mage…he didn’t feel that annoying tingling sensation. Not a warrior…she lacked the size and posture of a warrior. Her clothes were no help…they were simple and well made, but had no insignia. She was shorter than him, but her stance made it difficult to tell her height. He finally studied her face, noting the delicate line of her jaw. His gaze reached her eyes, and he was startled by how intense her stare was. At first he thought her eyes were black, but as he looked closer, he noticed they were a very dark blue, like the color of the night sky. _I’ve never seen eyes that color before._ He realized he was staring at her while she waited for him to answer. _Say something, idiot!_ “Umm…I’m sorry…what were we talking about?”

Her smile widened a fraction and one eyebrow arched in a playful manner. “You must be Alistair. Duncan spoke of you.”

 _The new recruit! A woman!_ “Yes…and you must be the new recruit. I should have realized sooner, I apologize. I get a little distracted by worrying whether or not I’ll be turned into a toad by an angry mage.”

“Do you tend to anger every mage that you meet, or just Ser Grump?”

Alistair laughed. _She’s funny too!_ “Well, I can’t really blame him for being annoyed. I used to be a templar before I was recruited into the Grey Wardens, about six months ago. I guess that means we have a little mutual distrust. I mean, I don’t have anything against mages in general. It wasn’t my choice to be a templar…it just…turned out that way. Regardless, my chantry training puts me in an awkward position with them. Not to mention the Revered Mother uses me has her go-between, which makes matters worse.” Alistair wasn’t sure why he was telling her all of this. Something about her...she just stood there quietly, absorbing all he said. He felt like he could talk to her for hours. There was something about her eyes that seemed to draw him in. It was more than just their dark color…there was depth in them, like a two dark pools that drank in the light. He tried to think of something to make her talk before he spilled his whole life story. “So…have you ever encountered darkspawn?”

“No. Have you?”

“When I encountered my first one, I wasn’t prepared for how monstrous it was. And the smell is…well, you’ll see…or smell, I guess.” _Why does she have to be woman? I always get tongue-tied around women!_ He cleared his throat. “As the junior member of the Grey Wardens, it’s my job to show you around the camp, make sure you have your gear and all that, and get you ready for the Joining ritual.”

“Ritual? What do you mean?”

“Every recruit goes through it. Don’t worry about that now. First, I can take you to meet the new recruits and get a hot meal in you. I can show you where…the…uhh…showers are. Umm...Duncan didn’t tell me your name…”

She looked down for a moment. When she looked back up, he was once again locked in those eyes, so dark he could hardly see where the blue ended and black began. “Elissa.”

“Elissa. Got it.” He started walking with her into the camp. “I don’t think there have been many women in the Grey Wardens. I wonder why that is?”

“You want more woman in the Grey Wardens, I take it?” She smiled as she looked over at him.

“Well…sure…I mean…I’m not some drooling lecher or anything…but Daveth certainly is…well, I mean…he doesn’t drool, least not that I’ve seen…” Alistair realized he was rambling. “Umm, have you met Daveth or Ser Jory yet?” He could feel his cheeks burning and tried to ignore it.

She was looking beyond him, somewhat distracted. He followed her gaze, a mixture of relief and disappointment that she wasn’t looking at him. He realized she was looking at a prisoner, the deserter who would likely be executed in the next day or two. He was crying out to passersby for food and water, but no one paid him any attention. She looked questioningly to Alistair.

“He’s a deserter. The King’s men guard him. As Grey Wardens, we do not get involved in…err…political things. Best to leave it alone.”

“Yes. But I am not a Grey Warden yet, am I?” Alistair was taken aback by how sharp her tone was. “You said you could take me somewhere for food. I should like to go now.” She looked slightly angry, but he couldn’t figure out if she was angry at him or the King’s guard or at…everything. There was something commanding about her tone that made him instantly obey her. He noticed she was small and most likely younger than him. But there was something about her that made her seem older. It was like she had seen too much of the world already.

They went in silence to the mess and she ate sparingly, wrapping a few portions and hiding them in her jerkin. He talked a bit, out of habit mostly, but she only gave him clipped answers. _Well, so much for us getting along._ Alistair was disappointed and couldn’t figure out where he had gone wrong. She stared around the room at the other Wardens. Alistair noticed that she took a long look at each one of them, almost as if she were sizing them up. But he couldn’t read in her face what she thought about them.

As they left, she filled her tankard with water and walked over to the prisoner. The guard stepped in front of her.

 _Great_ , thought Alistair. _More trouble. Just what I need_.

“No one talks to the prisoner. King’s orders.”

Elissa eyed the man coolly, but levelly. “Is it also the King’s orders to starve men before putting them to death?”

The guard crossed his arms. “If no one gives me nothing to feed him with, then he starves.”

“How fortunate for you then, that I have brought him both food and water. A coward’s punishment is knowledge of his own crime and shame when met with the eyes of his fellow men. It is not to starve.”

Alistair was somewhat shocked by her manner. _First funny, then angry, now…bossy? I think I understand why we haven’t had many female Grey Wardens._

The guard looked at Alistair, who just shrugged his shoulders. The guard relented. “Fine. But if he gets caught with food, I’ll be sure you get the blame.”

Alistair walked with Elissa to the cage and watched her give the food to the man. He was so ill, he could barely hold the tankard, so she held the cup for him at first. _Why is she doing this?_ he wondered. _Is it just kindness?_ She didn’t look happy about it. In fact, she looked…really pissed off.

As she handed the last portion of food to him, the prisoner said, “Thank you for pitying me, my lady."

Her hand froze in midair. “I am no lady and I do not have pity for cowards. I simply have no wish to watch a man die in a cage.” Her voice was leaden. She gave him the last parcel and turned her back to him coldly.

Before Alistair could speak she looked up at him. “Can we get on with this ritual?”

“Well…umm…there are things we need to do first…” He was confused. She looked furious. She was breathing heavily.

“I need to kill something, Warden.” Her eyes were as black as night. Alistair noticed her lip trembled slightly. He suddenly felt the urge to protect himself from her and wished fleetingly he had his shield. “I need to make something bleed. I…cannot bear it…” Her hands began to shake.

Before he could answer her, Duncan approached with Ser Jory and Daveth. Duncan looked calmly at Elissa, noting her posture and heavy breathing. Without taking his eyes from her, he said. “Alistair, did the armorer find the weapons I asked for?”

“Yes. Duncan. I…errr…they should be ready now. Shall I go get them?”

“Yes. Take Ser Jory and Daveth with you and wait for me by the Kokori gate. Be sure you are all armed and ready to go.”

Alistair looked briefly at Elissa, feeling like he should do something. Then, with a silent nod from Duncan, he motioned to the two men to follow him.

Daveth, of course, was the first to speak. “Can you believe she’s a woman? A _woman_ Grey Warden? I am liking this order more and more…”

Ser Jory offered his own opinion. “Women can be as skilled as men in battle. We have several female knights at Redcliffe.”

“Yeah, but most of them are huge gap-toothed women as big as horses. That one is tiny and well built. And blond too. Making love to a yellow-haired girl is good luck, you know.”

Alistair was annoyed at Daveth all the sudden. “She is to be a Grey Warden, not some bar wench. Show some respect!”

Daveth threw up his hands in mock surrender. “Now, now, no need to be angry, Warden Junior. Just observing that our newest recruit is a pretty one, that’s all. What do you think Ser Knight?”

Alistair didn’t listen to the rest of what they were saying. He was thinking about her last words. _I cannot bear it_. She seemed so angry and vulnerable all at once. It made his head hurt. _Maker, are there no…normal women anywhere? Maybe this is why so many men decide to be templars. Celibacy doesn’t seem so bad once you realize most women are insane._

<<>>

Elissa stood there, trying to compose herself. She knew Duncan was waiting for her to speak. But she could not find the words. She closed her eyes and tried to find something, something to grasp onto to keep the horrible sound of heart from smothering her.

The prisoner. Why did she give him food and water? Why did she bother?

 _Because he is you,_ her mind sneered _. You are the coward in a cage…starving for blood, for vengeance_. But no one would feed it to her. She had to stay there, helpless, starving, waiting.

But there was more to it.

_Soon I will see my brother. I will tell him his wife and son are dead. I will show him the blood upon my hands. Will he leave me to starve? Will he shun me, turn his back on a coward?_

She tried to wake herself from these thoughts. Her mother’s voice came flooding into her head. _Find something, child, find anything! Go back to something to keep yourself sane, else the blood will take you!_

_I am the door, the surface, the rope. I am the dawn, the light, the air…_

Her heartbeat was deafening. She searched her mind. Back further and further…

*****

She could smell grass. It was soft and sweet and fresh. She was lying in it, her hair splayed out, the sun soft and warm on her face. She was young, only seventeen. Roland was with her, sitting up with one arm draped casually over his knee, staring out over Highever. She watched his back as he breathed. She could hear Tellux barking somewhere in the distance.

“Roland, do you think you’ll be happy as a knight?”

Roland looked back at her. “It is all I ever wanted, my lady. To serve. And there is no better family than yours.”

She laughed, “That is because you know only us. For all you know, everyone despises us, and we are terrible fiends.” She continued to look up at the clouds drifting by, the sunlight peeking through every few minutes.  

“No one could despise you, my lady.” Roland sounded serious now. She couldn’t see his face, but she was sure he had that little knot above his eyebrows that he always got when he was being serious.

“Why Roland, I do believe you are intending to flatter me!” She sat up and was arm to arm with him. She looked out over Highever, enjoying the view. They often climbed this hill together after practice, to look out over the grounds. Sometimes they had a lot to say while other days, they sat in silence. Roland was the quiet one of the two, and had been since they were children. She always tried to make him laugh, and sometimes did, but he had a seriousness about him that she couldn’t always break through.

 _My knight_ , she thought. _He will go to his grave with a knotted brow, brooding over something_. They were both quiet for so long, she had almost forgotten what they were talking of. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft.

“I do not know how to flatter, my lady. I just know that…that I love you. That I always have.” He continued to look out over the castle.

She held her breath. She didn’t know what to say. Roland knew her better than anyone…her faults and all. It surprised her that he could…love her. And she had a deep respect for him, one that had grown since their first meeting as children. He was loyal and strong. His quiet, serious nature had always brought out her playful side…as well as her protective side. But did she love him? She honestly did not know if she could love anyone. And besides, her rank made it impossible for her to even consider it.

As her silence lengthened, he rose. She stood with him, grasping his arm.

“Roland, wait…” Before she could finish he turned suddenly and kissed her. She had never been kissed before and did not stop him. She couldn’t help but kiss him back. He pulled her closer to him, wrapping one arm around her waist to pull her closer while the other traced her jaw and moved down her neck. She couldn’t stop herself…she let him kiss her deeper, pulling him as close as she could, running her fingers through his red hair. His kisses became more demanding, more intense. She realized that in this brooding, silent man was something ferocious, something he had to work to contain. Her heart raced, thrilled to see this side of him.

He finally stopped, though reluctantly. He still held her, breathing hard, and placed his forehead against hers. “I know you cannot love me, Elissandre Cousland. We have our duty, and it divides us. I am no fool.” He moved his head back to look at her, his eyes steady with resolve. “But I will always love you. And I will always remember this.” He leaned slowly and placed a final, soft kiss on her lips.

He stepped back, releasing her and straightening his shoulders. He stared at her for a moment and then smiled, almost shyly. “So…will you tell Fergus and demand he run me through for this offence?”

A small laugh bubbled from her. “I suppose not. Besides, Fergus would probably just clap you on the back and say ‘job well done’, or something equally idiotic.”

He almost laughed, but instead turned his head, looking over the valley. He took a deep breath and then turned to her again. When he spoke, his voice was steady and correct, the Roland she had always known. “Today, I become a knight of your household. My life belongs to you and your family, now and forever. I will not fail you…my lady.” He bowed and turned quickly from her, his long strides carrying him away towards the castle.

She stood for several minutes, tracing her lips with her fingers, watching her knight walk towards his future.

*****

She opened her eyes and looked at Duncan. She could hear the sounds of the camp around her. Her breathing was normal. Her hands were still. The frantic sound of her heart had ceased.

“I did not know you had this affliction.” Duncan watched her closely.

Elissa’s eyed widened in surprise. “You know of…what I suffer?”

“I have known men who suffer as you do. Their minds become clouded and it is difficult for them to control. It is odd to find such a condition in one such as yourself.”

“Because I am a woman?”

“No. Because of the way you fight. You’re movements are so precise. Dwarves who call themselves beserkers let the rage take them during battle. They are fearsome and fear no pain, but they do not fight with precision. They are more like mabaris who get caught up in the heat of battle. Have you never done this?”

Elissa looked to the ground, slightly embarrassed. “When I was very young, my mother and father realized I had…a dark temper. I would become angry and then could not stop myself from hurting others…or myself. They found an Antivan tutor who had special techniques, taught me to control it, to come back from the darkness when it takes me. To balance on the precipice of it. My fighting style is merely an extension of that control. I find the stillness in my mind when I fight, which allows me to see what is happening and respond quickly and decisively, without emotion.” Her voice faltered.

“But you have not answered my question.”

Elissa sighed, hating to relive any moment of that awful night. “Yes, Duncan. I have let the blood take me in battle. At Highever…I let it take me. I… _wanted_ it to take me. My hands and arms and feet did what they have done for years. But it all came out as reflex. I…I was not fully in control, and I do not remember much.” She crossed her arms over chest, suddenly annoyed. “Does this mean I am unfit to be a Grey Warden?”

Duncan was thoughtful for a moment. “Those I have known who fight in this way…it requires a different kind of training. Although your parents and your tutor taught you to control it, they did not teach you how to _use_ it. It could be a great advantage to you, if properly used. Especially since you have already trained so long to maintain control and use your other advantages as well.”

“Advantage? I don’t think you understand what actually happens. I can barely distinguish between friend and foe when it is upon me! The world becomes dark, almost dreamlike, and everyone around me moves in slow motion. Some senses are heightened, like smell and sight, while I do not hear much nor can I feel pain. These do not seem like advantages to me.”

“Perhaps you are right. And yet I wonder…” Duncan was thoughtful for another moment. “You are a curious mix of parts, my lady. When this battle is over, I think it may be wise for you to travel to Orzammar. The dwarves have perfected using this part of their mind for battle, and it is most effective. There are also ash warriors in camp who use this technique to fight with their mabaris.”

Elissa’s face fell. “My mabari…Tellux. I had him since I was a child. He likely died with the others. I don’t want to be near them yet.” She squared her shoulders. “For now, I must continue to go on as I have. In battle, it does seem to be effective but…as you just witnessed, it comes upon me at times whether there is battle or not. My methods work well when this happens.”

“Yes, you are right. Are you ready for your test, recruit?”

“Yes Duncan. I am ready.”


	5. The Wilds

The dark wolf was cautious.

She followed the four humans, her ears alert to their sounds. Two of the men wore armor, and the sound of metal scraping made her want to paw at her ears. One man was in leather. She liked the sound of that, the creaking of his pants as he walked. He smelled of oil and sawdust.

The woman wore leather as well, but it had a different smell. It was soft, muffling her movements. But the dark wolf had sharp ears.

The dark wolf followed them as they sank deeper into her wild home.

Her hackles rose as the sickly scent of the creatures filled her nostrils. She watched, tight with anticipation, as the leader called out commands to the other three. They fanned out as he ran forward, shield raised and sword drawn. The woman did not wait. She ran around a thicket to his left, much faster than the man but running around to flank them. She reached the creatures when he did.

She attacked a smaller creature from behind, her blades sharp and quick. Without hesitation, she ran to the next opponent. An arrow pierced its neck before she could engage him. The man in leather was quick with his bow.

All three enemies were felled. The dark wolf relaxed at the smell of their death.

“What are you doing? I told you to stay back unless I gave the signal!”

“I wasn’t going to stand back and watch you engage three of them alone. I wouldn’t have been able to reach you in time if you needed me!”

“Being a Grey Warden means discipline! Their blood is poisonous. If you got cut, it would kill you!”

“And yet it is not poisonous to you?”

The man turned red. “That’s not…I…just…listen, I am here to protect you. But I need you to follow my orders. Don’t touch the blood. I need to collect it.”

The woman sheathed her blades. She watched him as he carefully filled three small vials with the blood. Her arms were crossed and she looked annoyed. Then, her face changed, as if she were deciding something.

“I am sorry for not listening to you, Alistair. I am…unused to taking orders. Do you…have any advice for how I can better engage them without risk to myself if we come across more?”

The man stood, eyeing her suspiciously. “You seem to pretty capable with those little swords. Just…don’t swallow any of the blood and try not to get cut.” He shoulders straightened. The other two men joined them. “This large one with the broad head is called a hurloch. They are slow, but very strong and it usually takes a few blows to take them out. Some of them know magic, so be careful. These two smaller ones are genlocks. They are the scouts of the horde, quick and mean.”

The dark wolf watched as the leader spoke to his charges. The men listened and asked questions. She could smell fear coming from the older man. She could smell anticipation from the man in leather.

The woman pretended to listen while her eyes searched the area. She kept her hands near her blades, her shoulders tensed. At one point, she closed her eyes and cocked her head, listening.

_She watches. She listens. She is like a wolf._

The dark wolf sniffed. She smelled grass and death on the woman. But she smelled no fear.

The dark wolf backed deeper into the shadows. She knew how to be careful.

And she always knew to trust her senses.

<<>>

“Well, if they were here, they aren’t anymore.” Alistair kicked the broken chest. “Looks like it was smashed in ages ago.”

Daveth spoke up. “Well how important could they be if the Wardens left them in this old ruin?”

Elissa wondered that herself.

Alistair shrugged. “Duncan didn’t tell me what they were, only that he wanted us to get them if they were here.”

“Seems like an excuse just to get us out here in the Wilds to me.” Ser Jory kept turning his head as he spoke, as if he were expecting more darkspawn to attack any second.

Elissa was annoyed by the knight. She had trained with boys with more spine than this one. _How did he get recruited?_ “It makes sense, Ser Jory. They can’t just accept us based on tales of our deeds. They need to see if we can actually handle ourselves against darkspawn.”

“I won a tournament to get chosen.” He said indignantly. “I knocked over a dozen men from their horses.”

Elissa crossed her arms. “Well I have yet to see a darkspawn riding a horse.” Daveth snickered.

“Alright, enough you guys,” Alistair said, though he was trying to hide a smile. “Let’s just return to camp.”

“Well, well, what have we here?” Elissa turned and saw a young woman walking towards them. She was dressed in a leather skirt with carved buckles weaved throughout the fabric. Her shirt was wound about her in a series of tight folds, rather revealing. It looked like animal fur, but dyed the color of berries. She carried a long wooden staff. Her chest was covered by a large necklace made from chips of colored stone and bone. Although her clothes were obviously handmade, they were crafted with great skill. She didn’t look like a savage, or at least not the way Elissa expected a Chasind savage to look. On the contrary, she was absolutely gorgeous. Her hair was a deep brown, held up in a knot fixed with small sticks. Her skin was white and she had long, lithe limbs. Elissa noticed her eyes were pale brown…almost gold.

Ser Jory jumped at the sound of her voice. Daveth’s eyes opened wide and he smiled. Alistair spoke up. “Don’t come any closer.”

Elissa noticed that the women did not seem frightened of them in the least. She stopped however, looking at all of them. “Are you vultures then? I see you picking through the old bones of a ruin long since abandoned. Or are you scavengers, come into these woods of mine in search of easy prey?” She raised her eyebrows. “What say you?”

“Don’t answer her,” whispered Alistair. “She looks Chasind.”

“Oh? Do you fear barbarians will swoop down upon you then?” The woman frowned at Alistair.

“Yes…swooping is bad.”

The woman laughed. She turned to Elissa. “What of you, female? Have you anything to say?”

Elissa answered, careful to keep her voice neutral. “I am Elissa. My companions and I came to this ruin in search of some old documents. We have no wish to fight, but neither are we afraid.”

The woman smiled. “At least one of you is not.”

Elissa took a step forward. “And your name?”

“I am Morrigan.”

“I wonder, Morrigan…since you seem to know these Wilds so well…do you know who took these documents?”

Morrigan smiled. “I do.”

Before Elissa could answer her, Alistair spoke up. “You stole them didn’t you? You’re some kind of…sneaky witch thief! We demand you return them! They are Grey Warden property.”

Morrigan looked annoyed. “Witch-thief. How very eloquent. And I will not return them for it is not I who stole them. Invoke a name that means nothing here all you want. It means nothing to me.”

Elissa spoke quickly. “We did not mean to accuse you Morrigan. I apologize for my companion’s lack of tact. He has been hard at work killing darkspawn, a job that does not require much diplomacy.”

Alistair looked furious but Morrigan laughed. “I see who has the brains your little group.”

“If you know who took the documents, can you tell us who it was? We do not wish to harm anyone, only to retrieve them for the Grey Wardens. We are here to kill darkspawn, not attack or _offend_ any of the Chasind folk. You have my vow.” She bowed deeply.

Morrigan looked thoughtful. “I like you. Follow me, and I will take you my mother. I believe she has what you are looking for.” She turned and started to walk away.

Alistair grabbed Elissa’s arm, “What was that? I am in charge here, you know.”

Elissa pulled away from his grasp. “And you put way too much stock in the fact you are a Grey Warden. Do you truly think insulting and then bullying the Chasind is a way to earn their cooperation?”

Alistair face turned red. “I have been here for weeks and you’ve only just arrived. These Chasind folk are as dangerous as the darkspawn. They know these wilds. We don’t.”

Elissa crossed her arms. “Exactly. Did you not see the markers we passed on the way here? These people have been watching us since we came into the Wilds. If they wanted to kill us, they would have done it already. They just want to be left alone. This one made herself known to us for a reason. I believe she knows something and I intend to find out what it is.”

Alistair looked taken aback by her speech. He lowered his voice. “She is also a mage. I can feel it. How do you know she isn’t leading us somewhere to…do unnatural things to us?”

Daveth clapped him on the back, a broad grin on his face. “Did you look at her Warden Junior? She can do anything she likes to me, unnatural or not.”

Elissa rolled her eyes. She looked back up at Alistair. “I know you are our leader, but if she does know where the documents are, then we need her. I say we trust her…for now.”

Alistair crossed his arms. “Fine. But I don’t like that woman. We need to be careful.”

They followed her into the Wilds.


	6. The Joining

Elissa was happy to get a shower, finally. It was freezing, and short, but it felt good to wash the blood and grime from her hair and body.

The showers were fairly secluded, located under a small grove of trees next to the Grey Warden encampment. There were four stalls connected to a large tub that was suspended in the tree that held the water. Alistair showed them all where it was when they came back from the Wilds. “We need to get this blood off of us. It starts to burn after a while and it is not pleasant.” When he saw her taking off her equipment, he looked surprised. “Umm…do you want us to leave while you…?”

“Why? Do you expect the rest of the Grey Wardens to flee the camp every time I need to bathe? We need to meet Duncan, correct?” She started unbuckling her leather cuirass.

Alistair looked shocked but Ser Jory seemed at ease, removing his own armor. “The female knights at Redcliffe are the same. We train together, eat together, and shower together. There is no shame in it. Besides, I have a wife. She is with child, you know.”

Daveth was removing his own clothes. “You don’t say? Congratulations Ser Knight!” He pulled his shirt over his head. “As for me, I will never say no to a woman showering with me.”

Elissa rolled her eyes as she undid the snaps of her jerkin. “Keep your eyes to yourself, Daveth, or I will pluck them out like grapes.”

He laughed. “Easy there! I like my eyes, thank you very much.”

Alistair turned a little red. “Well…I need to go meet with Duncan. Umm…meet me at his tent when you are…finished.”

Elissa watched, amused, as he walked quickly away.

Daveth laughed. “I think you scared Warden Junior off.”

Elissa took off her pants. “He’ll get over it. I’m not letting you two use up all the water before I get in there.” She kept her shirt on as she entered the stall, removing it to hang it across the entrance for a little privacy.

They talked between the stalls as they showered.

Daveth asked, “So what do you two think about this ritual? It’s all too secretive for me. Makes my nose twitch.”

Elissa responded. “I have a feeling it’s dangerous.”

Ser Jory spoke up from his stall. “I am sick of these damned tests. Have I not earned my place?"

“Are you scared knight?” Daveth asked, laughing.

Ser Jory was annoyed. “I am no coward. I just…I don’t like foes I cannot engage with my blade. Something doesn’t feel right about all this.”

Elissa spoke quietly, not wanting her voice to carry too far. “Alistair collected three vials of darkspawn blood. There are three of us. Don’t you find that…odd?”

Daveth laughed. “They probably just mean to smear it on us or something. And chant. Chanting makes everything seem more official, right?”

Elissa heard Ser Jory mutter, “I just wish they warned me about all this before I came.”

Daveth spoke up. “Would you have come if they’d have warned you? Maybe that’s why they don’t. Grey Wardens do whatever is necessary to end the Blight. They’re not school mistresses. My dad once told me that Grey Wardens burned whole villages to the ground during the last Blight to keep darkspawn from getting them. These boys are hard, and we have to be hard if we want to join them.”

They were quiet after that. The water didn’t last long and they shivered as they dressed. It was a cold night, and it wasn’t over yet.

<<>>

Duncan received word that Alistair and the recruits had returned to camp. Alistair was the first to arrive, while the recruits showered and grabbed a hot meal.

“How did they do, Alistair?”

“We didn’t encounter many darkspawn, only a few stragglers off the main horde. Daveth is an excellent marksman. Very quick, and he wasn’t overwhelmed by them. Ser Jory is a bit…hesitant. He did help though. Good swordsman. Elissa is…pretty amazing. She is fast and precise. She took down as many as I did. No hesitation. No fear. But she is bossy and a little…stubborn.”

Duncan nodded. It was as he expected. “Were you able to locate the documents?”

Alistair pulled the papers from his pack. “Yes, but they weren’t in the ruin. A wild girl named Morrigan found us and led us to her home. Her mother found them and kept them, or at least that’s what she told us. They were both…odd. The old woman didn’t tell us her name, but she seemed to know we were coming. She said she had been protecting them for the Grey Wardens. I think they’re both apostates.”

Duncan sighed. “Then they are the Templar’s concern, not ours. The documents appear to be genuine. This is good. We will need these.”

“What are they exactly?”

“They are old treaties, binding the races of Ferelden to aid the Grey Wardens in a Blight. And I believe we may have a Blight on our hands Alistair, whether we’ve seen a dragon or not. I have dreamed of the archdemon every night for weeks now. I pray we can end it here before it spreads. Hold on to these and keep them safe.”

Alistair let out a long breath. “Will the recruits undergo the Joining tonight?”

“Yes, as soon as they return. Alistair, I want you to stand as my second at the Joining. The other wardens are preparing for the battle. I wouldn’t ask, considering you have gotten to know them a little, but it can’t be helped.”

Alistair nodded. “I can do it Duncan. But…do you think any of them will try to run?”

“What do you think?”

Alistair thought about it. “Daveth might. He is a cutpurse after all. But still, he seems really cocksure. Ser Jory seems excited about it, but he is…a little nervous. Elissa…I am not sure. She is so changeable, it’s hard to know how she’ll react.”

Duncan smiled. “Most women are changeable. Tis their nature. But don’t let her moods color your opinion of her too much. She is deadly and smart. She has great strength in her, I have seen it. There are reasons she may be…a bit unstable right now. She could use a friend.”

“A friend? Well, if I can keep her from biting my head off, I’ll do my best.”

Duncan placed a hand on his shoulder. “You know what it is to be alone, Alistair. To have your life dictated by events out of your control. Her situation is similar, except that it has all happened at once for her. You have a good heart. She may need someone like you more than she realizes.”

Alistair looked thoughtful. “I’ll try to help her…if she…you know…makes it.”

Duncan looked out over the camp and saw the three recruits making their way to the tent. “I’ll take those vials Alistair. When they are ready, meet me at the old temple to the North. We need privacy.”

Duncan left the three recruits with Alistair to go and prepare the potion. He did not like the sound of these apostates guarding the treaties, but he had no time to contemplate that now. The treaties were safe and his new recruits had passed their first test.

Maker willing, they would past the next.

<<>>

Alistair walked in front of the three recruits, leading them to the temple. All three were silent. He was glad for that. He felt like he was leading them to the slaughter.

When they arrived, Duncan was standing in the middle of the temple. The roof had long since collapsed, and the stars were full in the sky above them, twinkling through stone latticework that remained from the ancient dome.

Alistair and the recruits stood in small semicircle around him. The joining chalice was sitting on a large stone table next to him.

Duncan began speaking. “At last we come to the Joining. The Grey Wardens were founded before the end of the first Blight, when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation. So it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood…and mastered the taint.”

Ser Jory looked disgusted. “You mean…we’re going to drink the blood of those creatures? I thought their blood was poisonous!”

“Not to all. Those who survive become immune to the taint. We are able to sense it in the darkspawn. It is what allows us to slay the archdemon. It is the source of our power.”

“If we survive, you mean?” Daveth asked.

“Yes. If you survive. There is no turning back at this point. You have all been conscripted. You must submit to the ritual or face death by steel.”

Duncan let his words hang in the air. Alistair watched their reactions. Daveth looked excited, Ser Jory afraid, and Elissa resolute.

“We only say a few words prior to the Joining, but these words have been said since the beginning. Alistair?”

Alistair bowed his head and spoke the words, solemnly. “Join us brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And if you should perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day, we shall join you.”

Duncan lifted the chalice. “Step forward Daveth.”

Daveth took the chalice and drank deeply, handing it unsteadily back to Duncan. He stood there for moment, and then fell to his knees, holding his head. Elissa reached down and caught him as he fell backwards, his body shaking. “Fight it, Daveth. Fight!” she whispered fiercely. His eyes rolled back in his head and white foam came out of his mouth. He heard Ser Jory cry “Maker’s breath”. Elissa held Daveth until he stopped shaking. She looked up at Duncan then turned to Alistair. He could see the look of betrayal in her eyes.

Alistair dropped his eyes. Duncan spoke.

“I am sorry Daveth. You will not be forgotten.” Duncan refilled the chalice and turned to the knight. “Step forward Ser Jory.”

“No…you ask too much. There is no glory in this.” Ser Jory drew his sword and took a few steps back. Alistair pulled his own sword and Duncan placed the chalice on the table.

Alistair stayed back and tried to calm him, holding his hand up in supplication. “There is no turning back, Ser Jory. You must be brave.”

“But I have a wife and child. Had I known…I won’t do it.” He continued to back away.

Duncan approached Ser Jory with his blade drawn. Ser Jory swung his sword and Duncan blocked it easily. They continued to trade blows until Duncan pushed him against the wall and stabbed him through the heart. “I am sorry,” he whispered as he withdrew his blade and guided the knight’s body to the ground.

Alistair looked at Elissa. She still knelt with Daveth’s head in her lap. Her eyes were wide, but she did not make a sound. Duncan turned towards her, sheathing his blade. She nodded and swallowed. She looked back to Daveth and closed his eyes with her fingertips. She gently laid his head on the ground and stood slowly.

Duncan held the chalice towards her. “Step forward, Elissa.”

She walked towards him. Alistair noticed she did not tremble. She took the chalice from Duncan and held it for a moment, staring into its depths. “If I die…tell Fergus I am sorry.” Before Duncan could answer, she took a long drink. She handed it back to Duncan and stood looking at him.

Her hands began to shake and she fell to her knees. She put her hands to her head and closed her eyes. After a few moments, she bent over and placed her hands on the ground, her body heaving, trying to throw the vile potion up without success. She breathed in deeply and tried to stand. She fell on her side and clutched her stomach in agony.

Alistair moved to help her, but Duncan held his hand up to signal him to wait. Duncan was staring at the girl intently, almost fascinated. Alistair watched as she lay there, breathing heavily. Finally, she rolled over and pushed herself up to her hands and knees again. She slowly stood, her body trembling. She looked at Duncan, her breath coming out in ragged gasps. “It…will…not…take…me.”

Her eyes rolled back in her head and she fainted. Alistair rushed forward, catching her before she hit the ground.

She was passed out, but alive. Alistair was amazed. At his joining, everyone had immediately passed out after the initial pain, including himself…except the man who died. He had never heard of a Warden standing, much less speaking after drinking.

Duncan stood over them, with something like awe in his voice. “I told you, Alistair. She is strong.”

Alistair looked down at the girl in his arms. “That was incredible, Duncan! She actually spoke! Maker’s breath, I can’t believe it!”

“Yes. I am grateful she made it. She will be a fierce Grey Warden. Carry her to my tent and look after her. I need to speak with the King.”

<<>>

Elissa woke with a start. It felt like her head was on fire and she itched all over. She tried to move, but there was a hand restraining her.

“Shhh….stay calm. You need to rest.”

They were in a large tent, likely Duncan’s. Alistair was crouching next to her, his hand on her arm. It took her a moment to see his face clearly. She noticed he looked at her with a mixture of pride and concern. He had a knife in his other hand. She looked at it, then up at him. “So now what…are you going to carve some Grey Warden symbol into my forehead?”

He looked confused for moment. “Oh! The knife?” He laughed. “I was just cutting some bread and cheese for you. I heard you mumbling and figured you were about ready to wake up. How do you feel?”

Elissa flexed her fingers, rising slowly as Alistair removed his hand from her arm and bent over the food. “I feel…like there are spiders under my skin. Is that normal?”

Alistair nodded. “It will go away after a few hours. It is your blood getting used to the taint, or so I guess.” He carved her a slice of cheese and placed it between two pieces of bread. “Hungry?”

Elissa’s stomach grumbled loudly at the site of the food. “Ravenous! How long have I been out?”

“Only a few hours. Best get used to being hungry though. Our blood burns faster after the Joining. Grey Wardens can eat more than a hungry ogre in one sitting, or so they say. I’ve never tested it myself, but as soon as I see an ogre, I am challenging him to a contest.”

Elissa began wolfing down the food. She was eating so fast it, it was hard to swallow. Alistair was happily munching away beside her. As she ate, it all came back to her. “Ser Jory. And Daveth. That was terrible.”

Alistair sighed. “Yes, it was. Only one person died during my joining, but it was still awful. I didn’t think much of Daveth at first, but he showed real courage at the end. I am sad he didn’t make it.”

Elissa thought about it for a moment. “Ser Jory was brave as well. My father always said it is easier for knights to attack an enemy in front of them than the enemy within.” Elissa swallowed hard. She hadn’t meant to bring up her father. She also realized she had referred to him in the past tense. Desperate to change the subject, she said “Maybe we should drink a toast to their courage, honor their memory. Got any whiskey?”

Alistair laughed. “I thought ladies were supposed to drink wine.”

Elissa looked up at him sharply. “I am no lady, warden.”

Alistair held up his hands in mock surrender. “Easy! I mean ladies in the general sense. You know. Women? Girls? Whatever.”

He turned from her slightly and began eating his food in silence. Elissa looked around the tent and realized there were wet cloths and healing herbs on the small table near her cot. Alistair had obviously been nursing her as she slept. _Great. Not only am I eating like a starving jackal, but I’m snapping at the man who was with me when I killed my first darkspawn. A fellow warden who has been nothing but nice to me. A man who watched over me as I slept._

She reached out and touched his arm. “Forgive me Alistair. I am…not myself.”

He looked surprised and a little confused. “Hmpf. Well…don’t worry about it. I know it takes a while to recover from the Joining. Did you have dreams? I had terrible dreams after mine.”

She remembered little…just screeching and bright flashes. “Yes. It was…different than other dreams. It seemed…like I was in the horde, I think. I don’t remember much.”

Alistair nodded knowingly. “Maybe you’ll be lucky and the dreams won’t affect you as much. Anyway, I am…really glad you made it. After Daveth and Ser Jory…well, I am glad you survived.”

She smiled. “You and me both, Alistair.”

He returned her smile. “Oh, before I forget.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace with a small vial hanging from it. “This is a token, a symbol that you are one of us. It is some of the blood from the Joining. We wear it to remind us of those who did not make it.”

She carefully took the pendant, pulling the necklace over her head. The pendant felt warm to the touch, almost like the blood was still alive. She had a feeling it was less to remind her of the others and more to remind her of her own tainted blood. She shivered at the thought.

The tent opened and Duncan stepped through. “Elissa, how are you feeling?”

“Much better, thanks to Alistair.” She was determined to let him know she was grateful. Alistair blushed and began cleaning up the tent. Elissa continued devouring the remaining food.

“Good. I spoke with the King and Teryn Loghain. The King wants you and Alistair to head up an important task in the battle.”

Elissa started to respond, but a loud belch came out instead. Both men raised their eyebrows in surprise and Alistair snickered. Duncan smiled. Elissa was blushing furiously.

“I…excuse me…I usually don’t…”

Alistair tried to talk between laughing. “Well, at least I’m not the only one that eats too much.”

Elissa smiled. “It’s a new weapon for the darkspawn. I call it ‘Belch of Death’.” Alistair began laughing again.

Duncan rolled his eyes and sighed loudly. “When you two are finished, meet me outside.”


	7. Winds of Change

Morrigan stood beside her mother, listening to the wind blow in from the North. It smelled of armies and steel.

“The darkspawn hoard will attack them tonight.”

“That is obvious girl. I have ears and eyes as well as you.”

Morrigan did not respond. She was used to such language from Flemeth. “I shall go and check on dinner.”

“Wait.” Flemeth raised her hands, a slight shift in the breeze causing her dress to flap around her ankles, her hair to lift. The old witch smiled, as if she felt something pleasant in the wind. “What did you think of our visitors?”

Morrigan knew to be careful with her answers. Flemeth did not appreciate uninformed responses. “The men were fools, as they usually are. The Grey Warden is particularly oafish. I believe he has had templar training. The woman is…she seems to have strength and some skill. She is intelligent. She speaks like one who is nobleborn.”

“A sufficient, yet utterly useless synopsis. You missed the most important things, as usual.”

Morrigan was annoyed. “And what are those things?”

“I will not always be here to tell you the obvious, girl. But I will this time. The Warden is young. He has not had the taint long, which makes him potentially valuable. And what you see as stupidity is more humility. He is no fool. He has sharp instincts hidden behind that guileless countenance.”

“Hmpf. He didn’t seem very sharp to me.”

“That is because you trust too much to what you see and hear. You have to see that which you don’t see and hear the silences in between.” Flemeth was silent for a moment. “He must be young and strong to do what needs to be done. There are a few others who would also do, but I only have two hands! Hahahaha! To be limited by such a thing! Hahahaha!”

Morrigan was impatient. Flemeth had been going on and on for months now about the Blight and what it meant, but had yet to share with her any of the details of what part she would play. The old witch was cunning.

Flemeth stopped laughing. “And the woman. Her manners, bearing, and face do indeed mark her as noble. And that is the least interesting thing about her. Did you not sense it?”

“You mean the blank place in her mind? Yes, I did but it seemed…unimportant.”

“Hahhaha! Again, you do not see what is not there. She is dangerous, like a bridge over a deep crevasse. You need the bridge to get the other side, but one false move and it will break beneath you, sending you to your doom.”

Morrigan did not know what to make of that. “Tis not the taint that has put this in her. I did not probe her deeply enough to see what is was, but she is neither tainted nor possessed.”

“No…that is what makes it all the more exciting! Something strong in her that is a natural part of who she is! No magic, no demon. Just her own mind! Yet she has no idea of the strength it gives her. She is afraid of it.” Flemeth smiled again. “And you are wrong about the taint. She survived the Joining this very night. She is now a Warden, and as tainted as he.”

“Pity,” Morrigan replied, without a trace of pity in her voice.

“No, girl. It would have been a pity for us all if she had died.” Flemeth mused for a moment. “A man with a stout heart and a woman with a unique mind. I wonder if it will do. Seems a waste not to use what we have.” She was thoughtful for another moment. “Morrgian! Fetch that stew. We must eat quickly. I need my strength for what is to come.”

<<>>

Alistair was covered in sweat and blood.

He was worried at first that Elissa would be too weak to handle climbing the tower after her joining. But Maker, when she saw the first of the darkspawn in the courtyard, she tore through them like a hurricane.

They were both annoyed at being sent on such a simple errand. _Wait at the top of the Tower of Ishal for Duncan’s signal. Light the beacon to signal to Loghain’s men for reinforcements._ It seemed like a simple task for two Grey Wardens. Too simple.

When they reached the tower, however, it all got a bit more complicated. They were shocked when the mage came running out the tower, yelling about darkspawn coming up from a tunnel under the tower. All Alistair could manage to remember was they had to get to the top. They had to light the beacon when the time came, or all would be lost. So they tore through the horde. Bit by bit, they got closer to the top.

He felt rather foolish. He had been determined to lead them in the Wilds, confident that his experience with darkspawn would mean he had to protect them all. But Elissa didn’t seem to need his protection too much then and she certainly didn’t now.

He had never seen a warrior move so quickly. She spun like a tornado, slicing two darkspawn at once. When one large creature came running towards her, she threw one of her short swords and it sank deep in the creature’s skull. Without hesitation, she ran towards the fallen beast, slicing a small genlock as she ran, and pulled her blade from his skull. With both blades, she spun and sliced another hurlock. When it fell to its knees, she crossed her swords and sliced the creature’s head off cleanly.

Alistair focused on his own targets, but he was constantly looking towards her to make sure she was alright. Her leather curraiss, bracers, and greaves were all she had to protect her from the jagged blades of the darkspawn. But she tore her way through the creatures, clearing the way for them to get to the top. He kept up with her, despite being weighed down by his mail. He was young and strong and though he did not move as fast as her, he had excellent stamina.

 _Keep climbing_ , he thought. _Keep climbing_. His lungs were burning and the air was tight in the narrow stairwells leading up to the top of the tower. Elissa was behind him, struggling for breath as much as he was.

He stopped for a moment to catch his breath. “What are they all doing here? They were supposed to attack from the south!”

Elissa clung to the railing, her hair wild from the fighting. “Weren’t you complaining earlier about not getting to fight?”

He barked a quick laugh. “I guess you’re right about that. Way to shine a light on a really shit situation.”

“I do my best.” She smiled up at him and he returned it.

“Speaking of shining a light, let’s get up there and get this thing lit. I’m sure we already missed the signal. Ready?”

“Covered in darkspawn blood, riddled with cuts, shaking from exhaustion? Of course I’m ready.”

They ran up the last flight of stairs and opened the door.

Whatever it was eating, Alistair didn’t want to know. He also didn’t want to challenge it to an eating contest, despite his earlier joke about ogres.

And he most certainly didn’t want the crazy girl behind him to run towards it with her swords drawn.

As he ran after her, he realized that, as usual, he wasn’t going to get what he wanted.

<<>>

Elissa’s mind went still.

_A room with no door is no room._

Run towards the beast. Twelve strides and you’ll reach it. Full speed. Catch it before it crouches to charge. Note the horns. Timing is key.

_A lake with no surface is no lake._

It’s crouching low. It has seen us. Change direction, go left. Alistair went right in the wilds, he will go right now. He is the bigger target. The beast will charge him.

_A well with no rope is no well._

It is crouching to charge him. Good. It will not make it. Its legs are huge, so it only needs one full bound to crush him. I must take the left leg before it charges. Change course, drop down. Slide in.

_I am the door, the surface, the rope._

Swift slice, make it count. Yes! Got the tendon, heard it snap. It is down on one knee. Alistair rolled to miss the fall. He is coming hard on its right, yelling. The beast is confused. Alistair will strike and it will try to catch him with the horns. That will be my chance.

_I am the dawn._

Alistair’s shield bash was hard and the horns only barely caught his shield. Its roaring is pointless. Run, keep running, fast and sure. Run up its back, now while it is crouched low! Watch out for its arms! Climb the monster. Do not let it rise.

_I am the light._

Ignore its thrashing. It cannot reach you unless it rolls. It won’t roll because it is hurt. Sink the swords into the base of its skull. Push them deep! Ignore the pain in your arms. Good! Twist. Keep your footing! Pull them out. Keep hold of it! Bury them in the sides of its neck. Ride it down. Keep the blades in deep, until it stops twitching.

_I am the air._

Look up. Smile at Alistair. But try not to be too cocky about it.

<<>>

Alistair’s mouth hung open. He watched as she jerked her swords from the ogre’s neck. She wiped the blades on its back then sheathed them both in one quick motion. She looked up at him and smiled as she jumped from its back.

“All in day’s work, right?”

 _She is smiling!_ Alistair had never seen anything less funny in his life. In fact, he had been terrified as he watched the thing twisting in fury. He had no idea she was on the ogre’s back until it fell forward in a giant crash.

He was breathing hard. She walked towards him cautiously. “Alistair? Are you alright?”

He took a long slow breath. “You are without a doubt the craziest person I have ever met in my life.”

She smiled at him. “I find that hard to believe, considering you trained in the Chantry.”

He laughed, relief bubbling out of him. “C’mon ogre-slayer. Let’s get this beacon lit.”

He ran for a torch and yanked it from the wall, running over to the pier. He thrust the torch in and watched the flames shoot into the air. They stood there for a moment, side by side, the warm glow of the fire basking them in yellow glow. He looked over at her. Her hair was plastered to her face, her chest heaving from exhaustion. She stared into the fire. “We did it” he said, relieved.

She turned to him to answer and an arrow pierced her neck. Her eyes opened wide and he could see the fire reflected in them, her mouth hanging open, blood coming from her lips. Before he could turn, something hit him hard in the back. It felt like a hammer, but he knew it was an arrow.

As he fell to his knees, she fell forward into his arms and they slumped to the floor. They both lay still, face to face. Alistair could not hear anything but the roar of the fire. The pain was so intense that he was afraid to close his eyes, afraid that he would have nothing but pain if he closed off his last remaining sense. The only thing he could see were her eyes. They were as black as night and full of fury. She stared straight into his eyes and he held her gaze, determined to keep her there with him.

_Two black pools. Her eyes are like two black…_

Her eyes started to close and he tried to call out, but his voice was caught, his airways cutting off. _It’s in my lungs. I am going to die._

The last thing he saw before the darkness took him was shadow passing over her face and a large claw gripping her shoulder.

<<>>

The beacon blazed above them. Duncan fought with everything he had left, waiting for Loghain’s men to force the battle away from the center. But the darkspawn kept coming.

King Cailan rushed out, engaging an ogre. His golden platemail glistened in the light of the fires, his voice carrying above the battle as he cried out. Duncan had a fleeting thought of children’s tales and kings.

When the ogre crushed the king and threw him aside like a ragdoll, Duncan knew they had lost.

Duncan looked around him at the chaos. The horde kept advancing. No new men came on the field. They were alone.

There was no end in sight save one. The one he had been waiting for since he joined the Grey Wardens.

When he felt the ragged blade enter his chest, his last thought was of running through grass taller than him. The sun was warm on his bare back and he could smell the northern wind, cool and clean. He heard his sisters laughing and caught glimpses of them through the grass as they all ran. They had to get home for dinner, or their mother would be angry.

Duncan did not make it home.  


	8. Decisions

Elissa awoke to the smell of burning herbs.

She did not open her eyes. She listened.

She realized she was naked and lying on a woven mat of grass. She was covered by a rough blanket. She could hear the sounds of the Kokori Wilds, the sound of insects buzzing, but they were muffled. She was inside and there was a fire burning, filling the room with the smell of pungent herbs.

Someone was in the room with her, breathing calmly.

She finally opened her eyes.

Morrigan, the girl from the Wilds, stood before her.

“You are awake at last.”

Elissa stared at Morrigan. The warm color of her golden eyes did nothing to soften the coolness of her expression. Elissa was not sure if she was her prisoner or her patient.

“I am in the Wilds?”

Morrigan raised her eyebrows. “Indeed.”

“Where is the horde, the army?”

“You do not remember?”

“I remember the tower, the fire, and…” She reached up and touched her neck. There was a poultice covering the entry point of the arrow. Her arms were sore and felt heavy. Her skin smelled of herbs.

“Mother rescued you and your friend from the tower and brought you here. The man who was supposed to aid your army quit the field. The army was defeated and the King is dead.”

“The scouting party! Do you know if they were in the battle? Are there any survivors?” Elissa was starting to feel frantic.

“There are no survivors. The darkspawn are still in full force, and are…” Morrigan stopped for a moment.

“Tell me.” Elissa’s heart had gone cold. She could feel the silence of the room pushing against her eardrums.

“I had a good view of the battlefield. The darkspawn are taking survivors belowground and…eating others.”

“Is there any way to look for survivors?” She knew the answer before Morrigan spoke.

“As I said, the horde remains. Only you and your friend are safe.”

 _Fergus. Fergus I am sorry!_ She swallowed, trying to force down the painful lump in her throat. _He is gone.  Gone.  Like all the others._   
  
She tried to focus on the present, desperate to avoid the pain in her chest. “My friend? You mean Alistair? He is here? Alive?”

“If by Alistair you mean the suspicious dimwitted one, then yes. He is outside, likely still sobbing about the death of his fellow Wardens.”

Elissa realized that Morrigan’s tone held no pity. She sat up. “Why did you help us?”

“I did nothing. My mother saved you, not I. And I do not know her reasons.”

“Still…you have my thanks, Morrigan.”

Elissa rose from the bed, shivering in the cool hut. Her body was weak but she was able to stand. She felt no shame standing naked in front of Morrigan. Despite the girl’s beauty, there was something wild about her that Elissa was sure found no offense with standing next to a nude woman. Still, it was cold. “So…was I naked when your mother recused us?”

Morrigan smiled and fetched Elissa’s clothes.

*****

Elissa stepped quietly from the hut. Alistair stood with his back to her. He was looking over the broad expanse of the Wilds, towards the North. He reached up and wiped his eyes.

She did not want to intrude on his privacy, so she closed the door loudly. He turned to her, his eyes red. He walked towards her, unashamed of his tear-stained cheeks.

“You! You’re alive. I can’t believe it. I…thought you were dead for sure.” He looked at her as if she weren’t real.

She didn’t know what to do. She had never seen a man cry before. _Say something funny_! “C’mon. I’m the ogre-slayer, remember? It takes more than an arrow to the neck to kill me.”

It didn’t work. His eyes were full of pain. “Duncan’s dead. All my brothers, gone. Even the King. This doesn’t seem real.” His eyes filled with tears again.

 _Shit, what do I say?_ She had spent her whole life training with men and had witnessed their reactions to loss. When Orwath’s wife died in childbirth, he went mad, tearing his hair and screaming, punching the beams around the practice yard until he broke both of his hands. But he did not cry. When Ser Maynard’s sister died, he got drunk for days and stared darkly at nothing while he sipped his ale. But he did not cry. Elissa and Fergus had finally thrown him in a rain barrel to make him sober up.

When her own family were slaughtered, she went mad and killed dozens of men. But she did not cry.

She could handle madness and despair. She could handle killing. She had no idea how to comfort a crying man.

He looked at her with no shame in his eyes. They were amber, a soft brown like caramel, and rimmed with red. She realized all of the sudden how young he must be…no more than twenty-two or twenty-three years old. There was something so open and artless about him. He didn’t care if she thought him weak or that she saw him cry. She had never seen a man act so…so _human_ before.

A part of wanted to share her own grief with him, to cry with him. She wanted to tell him about Fergus, to tell him about all the she had lost.

_But I cannot. My grief is mine. I need it to kill Howe, to survive!_

She cleared her throat. “We have to be strong, Alistair. We need to figure out what to do next.”

“A wise decision.” Morrigan’s mother walked towards them.

Elissa bowed lowed. “You saved us, lady of the Wilds. But I don’t even know your name to give you proper thanks.”

Flemeth smiled. “My, my, you do have nice manners! Names, like manners, are pretty but useless. Some call me Flemeth, so that will do.”

Alistair looked shocked. “ _The_ Flemeth…from the legends? It’s true, you really are the Witch of the Wilds.”

“And what of it? I know some magic and it has served you both well. Unless you think I should have left you in that tower.” Flemeth crossed her arms.

“If you have so much power then why didn’t you save Duncan? He was our leader!” The pain in Alistair’s voice was difficult for Elissa to bear.

Flemeth’s voice softened. “Grief must come later…in the dark shadows before you take vengeance.” Elissa’s heart stirred at her words. “Duty must come now, Grey Warden. And it is the duty of the Grey Wardens to unite the lands against the Blight, is it not?”

Elissa spoke up. “Until they were all slaughtered, betrayed by Loghain, that’s exactly what they were doing!”

“Why would he do it?” Alistair looked furious all of the sudden. Elissa was glad. It was better than seeing him look so…defeated.

“Men’s hearts hold more secrets than any tainted creature. I cannot speak for him or his ignorance of the true threat of the Blight.” Flemeth look at Alistair. “You know what that is, don’t you Grey Warden?”

“The archdemon," he said.

Flemeth smiled. “Yes. The Grey Wardens are the only one that can defeat it. And you two are the only Grey Wardens left.”

“But…Alistair is the only real Grey Warden here….” Elissa began.

Alistair interrupted her. “No! All the Grey Wardens in Ferelden are gone. I’ve lost everyone.” His hands clenched as he spoke. “We are the only ones left. For the love of the Maker, Elissa, don’t leave me to do this on my own!”

She felt ashamed all of the sudden. She was desperate to try to find her brother and, barring that, hunting down Howe and killing him like a dog. But how could she abandon Alistair? The man who had stared into her eyes, willing her to live as they both lay dying in that tower? She would never forgive herself if she turned her back on him now. And Flemeth was right. Duty must come before vengeance. Her father had told her this as well. “That’s not what I meant! I just…what about the Orlesian Grey Wardens? Can we not call on them for aid?”

Alistair looked somewhat relieved. “If Loghain turned traitor, then I am sure he is keeping them out of Ferelden. His daughter is the queen. He has all the power he needs to completely take over. But how can get away with it?”

Flemeth looked at him as if her were a child. “You speak as if he were the first man to take power this way. Grow up boy.”

Elissa felt defensive for him all of the sudden. “Alistair is right, Flemeth. The Landsmeet would never stand for it. There will be civil war!” Elissa’s mind was racing. “We need to find support amongst the nobles. We need to rally them.”

Her blood turned to ice. _It all makes sense!_ That bastard Howe, betraying her father. He would have needed support from someone. How else could an arl betray a teryn in such a way, and so openly? It was all a power grab. He and Loghain must have planned this. But who else was involved? “We need to find someone we can trust, someone with real authority…and an army. Someone who will stand up to Loghain.”

Alistair spoke up. “Arl Eamon would never stand for this. I know him. We should go to Redcliffe for aid. He wasn’t at Ostagar, he still has all his men.”

“You have more at your disposal than nobility and old friends,” Flemeth said.

Alistair was pacing excitedly. “The treaties! As Grey Wardens, we can call in aid from all over Ferelden…Orzammar, the Circle of Magi…even the Dalish. They are bound by oath to aid us in a Blight.”

Flemeth smiled. “Now you are thinking like Grey Wardens.”

Elissa’s mind was racing as they spoke. Arl Howe had removed her father, the one man in Ferelden capable of raising a great army. Most of the Highever men were killed at Ostagar in the battle, the rest slain or taken prisoner at Highever.

_All of that death, all so some selfish bastard could grab power._

Her heart was beating furiously. She could feel the blood thickening in her veins, the sound starting to block out her focus. Howe killed her family and her men, the darkspawn killed Fergus, and that bastard Loghain let it all happen.

She would not stand here and cry about loss. She would rip them apart.

“Alistair. We need to go, now.” Her voice was thick. She could feel the darkness coming.

“So…you are with me then? We’re going to do this?” Alistair’s relief was evident. But she barely noticed it. She could feel the blood taking her.

“I am ready.” Her hands started to shake. Flemeth looked at her curiously, then smiled.

“Soon. First…” Flemeth moved towards her. “You need to swim to the surface, child.” Flemeth placed a hand on her shoulder.

The blood stopped pounding. It felt as if it had been sucked from her as soon as Flemeth touched her, using Vanithan’s words to call her back.

Elissa’s eyes widened. Her mind was completely clear and focused. Everything was bright and still. It was like the mediation exercises with Vanithan, when she could find the stillness and expand her senses. But it was sharper, cleaner, and more intense. She could see the little insects flying in front of Flemeth’s face. She could make out the incandescent blue tips of their wings. They seemed to hang in the air, their wings stalled in mid-flight. She could see every tree, each twisted leaf frozen in the wind. The grass did not move. The clouds did not drift.

Flemeth smiled, her eyes blazing. Elissa could see the swirling colors in her deep, ancient irises. They were the only thing moving in the stillness that surrounded them. “Child, you are not yet ready for the archdemon. But when the time comes, you will be. Until then, keep the darkness at bay and use it only when necessary. And you will need it, child. You will need that strength before the end.”

Flemeth’s voice pounded in her ears. Louder than the blood, louder than any sound she had ever heard. “Do not fear it. It is what makes you strong. Immovable. Implacable. Determined. It is what will allow you to do what you must. It is no sickness, no affliction.” Flemeth leaned in and whispered to her. “It is part of who you are.”

Hearing her mother’s words from the witch’s mouth brought everything back. Time started again. The leaves moved again in the wind and the flies buzzed as if they had never stopped. Alistair was speaking to Flemeth, totally unaware of what happened. Elissa was not even sure it happened at all.

Alistair asked Flemeth if there was any other help she could offer. As he spoke, Morrigan came from the hut. “Dinner is almost ready mother. Shall we say goodbye to our guests?”

“The wardens are leaving and you will be going with them.”

“What? Mother, I am not…I am not ready!”

“You must be girl. They need you to defeat the Blight. Without you, they will surely fail.”

“Whoa, wait a second!” Alistair held both hands up. “You want us to take your daughter…an apostate mage…with us to gather an army? Are you mad?”

“Hahhaha! Maybe I am. But she will be of great use to you. I give you my greatest treasure, that which I value most. I do this because you must succeed against the Blight. What say you?”

Elissa looked at Morrigan. Something about her cool disposition bespoke her power. But she felt sure that this had been Flemeth’s plan from the beginning. She didn’t know if she should trust Flemeth. _But she stopped the blood_. _With one touch. She is powerful and knows much._ Perhaps Morrigan could help them. “If Morrigan wants to come with us, I would be glad of her help.”

“Then I will get my things.” Elissa could not tell if Morrigan was glad or upset at leaving with them. Perhaps she felt neither emotion at all, and simply did as she was bid. Flemeth smiled and left them to join Morrigan in the hut.

Alistair pulled Elissa to the side. “Do you think this a good idea? I mean, are we taking her because that nutty old bat told us to?”

Elissa wasn’t sure what to say. Perhaps Flemeth had put a spell on her, but she didn’t think so. There was something going on, she was sure of it. But at the same time, they needed to move quickly and Morrigan could at least get them out of the Wilds without bringing the whole darkspawn horde upon them. “I think we need all the help we can get. They are both powerful. And they saved us.”

“True…but why? That’s what worries me. And Morrigan is such a…she…she’s not very nice, is she?”

Elissa smiled. “Funny, with everything that is happening, it is the whims of a ‘nutty old bat’ and the icy attitude of an apostate mage that worry you the most?”

Alistair smiled. “Good point. Well, maybe she can cook at least.”


	9. Out of the Wilds

The mosquitoes were maddening. Alistair moved closer to the fire, hoping to fry a few of them, but it was no use. _Mosquitoes and darkspawn_ , he thought bitterly, _both come up from the ground and both want to make a snack out of me_. He could hear the vile things bumping around in his armor…ping, ping, ping. _Maybe I’ll get lucky and they’ll knock themselves out._ Luck, however, evaded him and he decided that removing his arm guards and gauntlets would allow him to at least brush them away and swat a few for spite.

He felt rather foolish putting on his full armor for second watch anyway. When Elissa woke him to take his turn, she eyed him strangely as he started to suit up. He just shrugged and buckled his breastplate. Habits were hard to break and besides, best to be ready. She said nothing, however, and fell fast asleep near the fire before he had finished.

Morrigan slept peacefully, though he could barely see her through the shrubs that separated their two camps. The pungent smell coming from her personal fire meant she knew which herbs to burn to keep the mosquitoes at bay. He would rather be eaten alive than ask that snarky witch for anything, so he suffered in silence. _Let her sleep in peace while they eat me alive_ , he thought. _Maybe I won’t wake her if something attacks the camp_.

Elissa slept fitfully in her bedroll. The ground was soft, but damp, and Alistair was worried they would all be sick by the time they made it out of the Wilds. Flemeth outfitted them with the bare necessities only…a few bedrolls, some dried fruit, and little else. Elissa’s thrashing and moaning were signs she was probably already coming down with a fever.

 _I should wake her_ , he thought. _She needs to learn to control her dreams if she is ever going to get a good night’s sleep_. The taint wouldn’t make that easy, he knew from experience. Of course, his templar training helped him control the dreams somewhat…one of the few things that made those ten years in the Chantry even remotely worth it. Maybe he could teach Elissa a few tricks without giving away too many of the Chantry’s secrets.

He rocked back on his heels to stand. His legs ached from crouching for so long, but he ignored the stabbing pain. He learned a long time ago it was better to be on your feet than you ass if something came up, so crouching was as close as he came to a relaxed position on watch. Stretching, he gazed into the fire for a time.

 _Maker, what I am supposed to do now?_ The loss of all his friends, the only family he had ever known. And Duncan. _I know I should be leading us, but I can’t. My whole life I’ve been pushed here and there by everyone else._ And now for the first time, he had a chance to determine his own destiny…yet the taste was bitter.

 _I should have died there_ , he thought. _Maybe I did and I just don’t know it yet._

Elissa cried out in her sleep again, a pitiful wail that ended in a whimper. _Time to wake her._ Maybe if she understood that it was at least possible to control the dreams, it would help her sleep the rest of the night.

He moved as quietly as a man could in armor. Alistair was surprisingly graceful in his movements. _Thanks to all that sneaking around at night to raid the Chantry’s larder_. He learned to move quietly when he needed to, to avoid the stern eyes and wooden switches of the Chantry sisters. _Some of those sisters were more terrifying than darkspawn,_ he thought.

Crouching beside Elissa he watched her struggle in her bedroll, mumbling incoherently. He moved his hand towards her shoulder. In a flash, Elissa’s own hand shot out from her side and grabbed his hand. _Maker, she is even quick in her sleep!_

Before he could register what was happening, Elissa’s voice rooted him to the spot.

“Forgive me.”

Her voice sent chills through his spine. Never, in his whole life, had he heard so much pain and desperation in a woman’s voice. Her eyes were closed…she was still dreaming. Yet those two words cut through the darkness, clear and full of anguish.

He looked down at her and saw the pain etched in her sleeping features. Her eyes were still shut, more as if she were trying to block out some terrible vision than really sleeping. Her grip tightened around his hand, her knuckles white.

“Forgive me…please.”

 _Well, what will you do now, you dolt!_ She was obviously not dreaming of the archdemon…but she was facing demons no less. He had no idea what she wanted forgiveness for, nor whom she was asking for it. But he knew…somewhere deep inside…he knew this pain. He could hear that same voice in his mind…haunting him. “Duncan, forgive me”, it said, over and over. But neither Duncan nor the others would ever answer him. And from the sound of her voice, he had a feeling that no one would answer Elissa either.

 _The last two Grey Wardens in Ferelden_ , he thought bitterly. _Two hollow soldiers surrounded by ghosts._

He looked at her face. How could such a lonesome and terrible voice come from that delicate face? He reached with his other hand and stroked her cheek. She was warm, but not feverish. Her skin was so much softer than he thought it would be. Funny…he had never touched another person’s face before. Not like this.

He felt like a fool, but the anguish in her voice made him bold. He leaned down and whispered softly in her ear, “I forgive you…sleep now, Elissa”.

Her face relaxed and her grip loosened somewhat, but she still clutched his hand. She murmured again and brought her knees up to her chest, curling up like a child beside him, cradling his hand like a stuffed toy.

 _Great…well, I always wanted to hold hands with a beautiful woman_. He looked down at her. _She is so small_ , he thought. _How did I never notice how small she is? And beautiful…well, not now…not all crumpled and sweaty._ But his mind kept sneaking back to the vision of her, fighting in the wilds, screaming in the tower, eyes blazing, hair flying. And her eyes, as she lay facing him in the tower. The way she had stared at him...like he was the only thing keeping her alive.

_Yes, she is beautiful alright...like a lightning storm. And only a fool goes running towards one of those._

He was loath to disturb her now that she was breathing deeply and no longer muttering. So, despite his fear of storms, Alistair continued to crouch there beside her, ignoring the mosquitoes, letting her clutch his hand.   He stayed this way until dawn, a man in metal guarding his tiny charge.

<<>>

Elissa woke with a start, and was surprised to find Alistair sitting near her, head drooping a bit. She felt the sun warming her in her bedroll and smelled the smoke from the smoldering fire. She yawned loudly and Alistair’s head jerked up in surprise…then he fell backwards from his stooped position. The loud clatter of his armor, along with his cursing, sent a small flock of birds flying from the nearby shrubs.

“Well, it looks like we scared away breakfast," she said mournfully. She pulled on her leather boots and stood while Alistair got himself sorted and rose to stand next to her.

“In any case, it’s good to know the various uses of armor," he quipped. “I could scare off all kinds of things with noise like that."

“Or call the whole hoard down on us,” said Elissa, though playfully. The beginnings of a smile faded from Alistair’s lips as his glance caught something in the distance. “Hmph…looks like our witch is returning from some dark ritual in the forest,” he said. She followed his suspicious gaze and saw Morrigan walking slowly towards them from a dense thicket on the horizon.

“Well, that was an interesting night,” Morrigan said. “Imagine my surprise to find our night watchman more focused on things _in_ camp rather than all the interesting things happening outside it.” Elissa looked up at Alistair and saw he was blushing furiously. She eyed him questioningly, but he avoided her gaze.

“Just because I didn’t stop you when I saw you leaving doesn’t mean I wasn’t aware…I was just hoping you wouldn’t return, is all,” said Alistair grumpily.

“Well, as luck would have it I did and I bring…breakfast,” she announced with a satisfied smirk. Two small rabbits were notched around her waist and Elissa’s stomach growled.

“How’d you catch those…scare them to death with your nasty glare?” asked Alistair.

“Oh, pipe down Alistair. Morrigan, thank you for getting us food,” said Elissa. She tried to catch Alistair’s eye, but he kept his face turned away. “Since I seem to be the only one that got any real sleep, I’ll make breakfast”, she said, hoping to ease the tension. She would have to do something about their bickering.

“Yes indeed,” purred Morrigan, “And Alistair…perhaps you would care to tell our brave Warden just how deep her sleep was?”

Elissa looked towards him expecting some kind of answer. Alistair stomped over to his own bedroll and began piling his gear together, ignoring the two women and muttering to himself. _Why was he sitting so close to me?_ she wondered.

“I also came close enough to see the chimney smoke from the village. We will be there in less than two hours,” Morrigan said.

Elissa nodded and took the rabbits from Morrigan. She knelt down and concentrated on skinning them. She hoped that she would be able to hide her noble upbringing as long as possible from her two companions. The more they knew, the more questions they would ask. Luckily, Morrigan said only what needed to be said expect for the occasional jab at Alistair. Alistair seemed resigned to keep to himself, and she could hardly blame him. _What was I like those days on the road with Duncan?_ she thought. It was a blur now. Did she speak at all? She looked again at Alistair. Was his pain really any different than hers? Betrayal and regret….not the best conversation to have over breakfast. But she would need to talk to him soon. They needed to survive, to take revenge.

Stoking the fire brought back enough flame to roast the rabbits. After packing her gear, Elissa sat by the meat, watching it roast. But she couldn’t see it. All she could see was Howe’s face, smirking at her. She looked at her hands, trying to find that cold place within herself to keep the rage at bay. Her hands were blistered and scratched all over. She flexed one and watched the skin crack open in various places. Again and again she flexed her fingers, willing life into them. _Cracked and bleeding_ , she thought. _And we’ve only just begun._

She had dreamed of Fergus last night. He was surrounded by darkspawn, slashing with his blade, his brown hair swinging around his face as his sword moved…too slowly…always too slowly. She ran into the fray, screaming his name, daggers singing. She took down so many darkspawn before she could reach him that she had to climb over the fallen on her hands and knees. When she finally reached him, he fell into her arms, covered in blood and gore. He looked into her eyes and gasped “My son, my wife…why didn’t you save them, Elissa? Why?” Blood gurgled from his lips as he tried to speak, his eyes accusing. She cried over him. “Forgive me…forgive me…” As she watched the light fade from his eyes, she heard him whisper, something she could not remember now. Then, the blackness swallowed her.

She shuddered at the memory. _Not the worst of the dreams I will have, I am sure_. She wanted to cry, to tear at her hair, to scream and thrash like a wild creature. But she was a Cousland…the last of a noble line. And now a Grey Warden. Elissa found the cold place in her chest, clinging to it, forcing it to hold her together. She wouldn’t give that bastard Howe the satisfaction of breaking apart so easily.

She dug her fingernails into her palms. _Howe_. She could taste the bile on her tongue. _I will make him eat his heart, Fergus. I swear it._


	10. Lothering

“Lothering…pretty as a painting,” Alistair said. They looked out from the bridge over the scattered village. Ramshackle tents were spread over the grassy plain in front of the village gates. The smell was horrible, a mixture of piss and shit and sweat and huddled bodies. Dirty children wandered aimlessly around, and the adults stood stupidly with glazed expressions. _These people look dead already_ , thought Elissa

“Nice of you to rejoin us,” chimed Morrigan. “If you are done staring at the ground, that is.”

“Is my being upset so hard to understand?” Alistair shot back.

“I happen to have a great capacity for understanding,” said Morrigan. “However, I do not suffer fools gladly.”

“Oh right, because it is foolish to grieve over the loss of your friends. My mistake, you creepy bitch.”

“Enough!” cried Elissa. “We need to make some decisions. We have hardly any food, little gear, and no coin. Alistair, I know you are upset, but I need you to swallow it down and help me…alright? Morrigan…just try to keep the attitude at a minimum, please.”

Alistair’s shoulders slumped and he looked to the ground. Morrigan simply sniffed and turned her head. _Great_ , Elissa thought, _I am turning into my mother_. She pushed the thought from her mind and continued.

“We need to gather supplies while we are here. Let’s have a look in the Chantry and see if…”

“Well, well, more travelers on our bridge it seems.” Several large men had gathered behind them as they spoke. They weren’t very well armed, but there were at least twelve of them. They blocked the stone stairs leading down into the village and formed a semicircle around them. “Time to pay the toll. You can either pay in silver or,” he leered at Elissa, eyeing her up and down and licking his lips while his friends did the same with Morrigan, “perhaps we’ll do away with your knight and you can pay us in favors?” They all laughed.

Elissa’s face burned at being caught unaware.

“You will address her as _my lady_ or you’ll find your head on a spike,” Elissa heard a familiar voice say. She looked beyond the men and saw him approaching from the village, his red hair tousled and his face stern. His long strides were unmistakable. “Roland!” she cried, unable to contain her emotion at seeing a survivor from her home. Alistair looked confused and Morrigan simply looked bored. _Well, so much for keeping secrets_ , Elissa thought fleetingly.

“Hmph, sounds like we got us a noble wench here boys,” smirked the leader of the group. “And with her maid and a couple of knights to boot. I say this should make for a larger toll than we normally charge, don't you think?”  

Ser Gilmore spoke up as he reached the group “I believe I will teach you some manners.” Without pausing for a breath, Elissa pulled her daggers from her back. She heard Alistair curse before the four of them tore through the group. Her daggers sang…and it felt good to slash them all. Elissa kicked and snarled, enraged at the stupidity of the situation more than anything else. It was an easy victory that left every highwayman dispatched except the group’s leader, who lay moaning at Elissa’s feet.

“Well, at least we are good at killing people together. Now if we can keep from killing each other, we may just make it out of this damned village,” said Elissa. Morrigan smiled a little and Alistair rolled his eyes. She looked down at the struggling leader. “As for you, wretched creature, will you beg for your life?”

“Please…my…my lady…forgive this…foolish rogue for attempting to…for suggesting that…Maker’s breath, please don’t kill me!” he sobbed.

“I may yet let you live, if you have enough coin to satisfy my needs.” She placed her foot on the man’s throat. “Otherwise, I will be forced to clean my boots for hours tonight to get rid of the stains…”

“No!” he gasped. “We have silver in the chests under the cart. It’s yours!”

“Then run, you little rat."

“Make bless you….my lady,” he yelped as he shuffled to his feet and half ran, half limped away.

Elissa turned to Roland. “Well, Ser Gilmore…you came just in the nick of time.” The battle fury was quickly ebbing away and she realized how happy she was to see a familiar face. She searched his features for any sign of news.

He looked haggard and beaten, quickly erasing the small glimmer of hope she had. Hanging his head, he said, “My lady, I…they are all gone. Your mother… I found them in the cellar but…she begged me to leave…to find you and Fergus. I could not disobey her, not when…” he faltered, unable to go on. She nodded, quietly, feeling the gaze of the others on her.

This was no time to show weakness. She closed her eyes, letting cool and calm settle over her before she spoke. “It is as I expected, Ser Gilmore. I am sure you acted honorably.” She hesitated when he did not respond. She realized her voice sounded like ice and she struggled to soften her tone.

“Ser Gilmore…Roland…please look at me”. Roland raised his eyes to meet her. They made him look a million years old. How could she comfort him when she hated herself for the same act? _We are both cowards…we do not deserve to live._ She wanted to slap him, to hurt him…to make him pay for her own actions as well as his.

But she had known him all of her life. In a way, he was all she had left now, and she wouldn’t take her anger out on him. “We must move on. We can talk more, later."

His eyes dropped again. She hesitated, then placed her hand on his chest, unsure what else to say. He gasped, though she was sure he could not feel her touch through his armor. Before she could remove it, he grasped her hand and brought his forehead down to her fingers. He finally spoke, his voice thick with emotion, “My lady…forgive me."

Alistair shuddered at the words and Elissa looked over at him, distracted for a moment. Alistair met her gaze, his eyes searching and understanding all at once. _What does he know?_ she thought, troubled.

“We have a lot to do," said Elissa, breaking hand and eye contact with both men. She could feel the rage trying to push its way in, thinking about her mother guarding her father’s lifeless corpse. She turned to the village. She felt like she was suffocating on this bridge, with all the death around her.

Time to act.

“Right. We need to get supplies and information. Ser Gilmore, take the silver from the crates and anything of use from the bodies of these men. Go into the village and get camping gear and whatever supplies you think will suffice for the four of us to travel to Redcliffe.”

Alistair made a strange noise in his throat and Elissa looked to him. “Alistair, you and I will go to the Chantry and see if we can get any information.” He nodded in agreement. “Morrigan, assist Roland, please. I don't think he has much experience haggling, and that may be necessary given our limited funds.” When Morrigan looked at her questioningly, she said, “If haggling doesn’t work, I am sure you have _amazing_ powers of persuasion." Morrigan smiled and Elissa found herself smiling back. “We will meet up at the local tavern and see what the good people of Lothering have heard. Keep sharp.”

Morrigan nodded and approached Ser Gilmore, who looked taken aback at her appearance. “Don’t worry, knight, I shall not bite”.

“I wouldn’t count on that, Ser Gilmore," said Alistair.

Elissa began walking towards the village and Alistair followed. _Well_ , she thought, _I guess that makes me the leader._

<<>>

Alistair’s head was spinning. It all made sense now. She was Elissandre Cousland! News of the massacre at Highever castle was the all over the camp after Duncan’s return, but Alistair had been so busy running errands and getting everything ready for the new recruits that he didn’t connect the two events.

He tried to remember what Paxter had told him. Paxter was the only Grey Warden that really spoke with knights of the kingsguard because he had a brother amongst their ranks. So, whenever anything important happened, Paxter always knew before anyone else. He was notorious for gossip.

He stumbled upon Alistair early that morning, telling him that a lesser arl had taken Highever castle only days before, and that no one had survived. Alistair had only half listened because he was trying to find the mage to deliver the summons from the Revered Mother. He was also anxious to meet Duncan, who had arrived a few hours before. But Paxter had been particularly upset by the news.

“The Couslands were an honorable family. This is a damned shame, I tell you!” Paxter was originally a guard for a noble family in Denerim before being recruited, and he always knew who was who in the nobility. He also held the nobility in high esteem in general and was proud to have served in his youth. “The eldest Cousland is here leading the Teryn’s men, but they are out scouting the Wilds for the King. The guards say they sent messengers, but Maker, I would hate to be the one who has to tell him. I believe he had a wife and son at that castle. Damned shame!”

Alistair had forgotten that completely. He looked back at Roland and Morrigan and noted the two branches on Roland’s shield. The laurel wreath of Highever. Alistair had learned about all of the noble houses as part of his history lessons at the Chantry. The Couslands were one of the most powerful families in the Landsmeet and their bloodlines could be traced far beyond the founding of Ferelden …farther than any of the other noble houses, for that matter.

Damn it, why hadn’t he realized that Elissa’s arrival in camp was related? He knew Duncan had been travelling in the North. He also knew Elissandre Cousland by reputation. She had fought in the tourney at Whitehand Hall when she was only fifteen and won the melee there. It wasn’t the fact that she was a woman that made it so scandalous…many women fought. It was the fact that she won by slaying Ser Edmund’s mabari and then jumping on his back and biting his ear off that so offended the nobility. At least that is what Alistair heard as the story spread through the Chantry. He remembered very clearly being smacked over the head when he was heard repeating it to some other initiates. True, he had embellished it a bit and in his version…the noble maiden also turned into an ogre and severed a few heads…but at the time, he felt the story needed a bit of excitement added in. Most likely, it had taken a few additions before he heard it.

He looked up towards Elissa and noticed how she held her shoulders high and walked with purpose.

 _But wait…was she there when her family was massacred?_ _Maker’s breath! How does she endure it?_ It would explain the dream and her horrible cries in the night. When Roland uttered his plea, Alistair could hear the same desperation in his voice that was only wretched out of Elissa in the darkness of sleep. _She has buried it_ , he thought. _Buried it to lead us. To lead when I couldn’t._

 _I cannot bear it._ He remembered her voice, her shaking hands. He thought that she was stressed about becoming a Grey Warden, not burdened with such a weight.

 _I am such a coward_ , he thought, angry with himself. _I’ve spent days sulking and lost in my own regrets, and she watched her whole family…I am a complete ass._

Duncan told him she needed a friend. He desperately wanted to say something, to try to make up for his own actions…his own inaction, more like it. He quickened his pace to catch up to her, determined to try to talk to her. He almost ran into her as she abruptly turned around.

“Alistair, do you want to talk about Duncan?”

“What?” _How could she be worried about me after all that has happened to her? “_ Oh…you don’t have to do that," he said stoutly, trying to make up a bit for his past behavior. Instead of being impressed, she looked annoyed, a small crease appearing between her eyebrows. “What I mean is…” he faltered, “I know you didn’t know him as well as I did.”

“Alistair…”she began, awkwardly. “I…know he was a good man. And I know he was like your family,” she hesitated and her eyes dropped away for moment. Alistair had the overwhelming urge her to touch her face again, but she quickly straightened her shoulders, looking him hard in the eye. “I know that you need to talk about it. Some people can’t…talk easily about what they feel when they are hurt…when they are angry.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “But you are not like that. I think you need to get it out. And I am here for you if you need that.” She looked down awkwardly “Do you understand me? I want to listen because I can’t…think about…not yet."

Alistair had no idea what to say to that. He had never had a woman speak to him like this before, revealing so much and keeping so much hidden at the same time. Duncan told him once that most women were like castles with too many rooms and most of the doors locked. You were always either lost or locked out when you tried to navigate them. He was starting to understand that a little.

Thinking of Duncan made him falter. He looked down for a few seconds, uncertain how to begin. “Duncan, he saved me, you know. He…saved me from a life I didn’t really want, a life that was forced on me. Being a Grey Warden, with him and the others…they were the only family I ever really had. And they didn’t deserve to die like they did.” He could fell his anger building, a scorching heat reaching across his chest and arms. “I know we have the Blight to deal with and I know we have a long way to go to do our…duty. But Loghain will pay for what he did to them.” He squared his shoulders and looked into her dark eyes. “I _will_ watch him die. For Duncan.”

She stood so quietly while he spoke, her eyes dark pools in her delicate face. He felt no judgment, no questions in those eyes. Only quiet listening. For a brief moment, he forgot his anger and pain. He just stared into them and found a dignified strength smoldering in her gaze. He wanted to make her proud of him, suddenly. He had no idea where that feeling came from, but he wanted it desperately.

She held him with her eyes for another moment, then leaned back and tilted her head towards the sky, releasing him. When she looked back to him, her gaze was fierce, and her eyes caught the light of the morning. Her mouth turned up in wicked grin. “You will have your revenge my friend. We are more alike than I thought."  

<<>>

“They came here for protection, and all they will get is death," Elissa said. Her blood was boiling. She thought of her father, how he trusted her to defend their home, their people. And she had fled, just as the leaders of this village had. The thought made her wretched and ashamed…and angry. “You need to get these people out of here, since their leaders have abandoned them to their fate."

The templar looked at her levelly. “I have done my best to organize these people. How do you expect me to lead an evacuation with more refugees coming in every day?”

“My expectations are high because the cost is great,” she shot back.

“And who are you to have any expectations at all? You are a Grey Warden, on the run from the reagent. Having failed in your duty, you then presume to tell me mine? Ha!”

Alistair stepped between them. “You know, we are in the Chantry, right? Do you both want Andraste to send a firebolt to burn us where we stand? I am not very religious, but I am pretty sure you are both on the verge of committing some horrible blasphemy here.”

Elissa shot Alistair a fierce look and then relaxed her shoulders. She stepped back, took a deep breath. After a moment, she looked towards the ceiling. “Don’t see anything yet, so I think we are safe.” She smiled at Alistair, somewhat abashed, and then looked at the templar. “Forgive my harsh words, ser. I come from battle and my wounds are fresh. My words to you were not honorable." She bowed her head slightly.

The templar looked taken aback. “Forgive me as well, Grey Warden. I don’t believe the lies Loghain’s men spread through our village. One could only look at their shiny armor to know they had not seen battle,” he said, disgusted. “My words were spoken in anger. I apologize.” He made a quick bow.

“See, now everyone is playing nice!” quipped Alistair.

Elissa rolled her eyes. The templar continued. “We don’t have enough men to lead a proper evacuation. That wouldn’t be so bad, except we have gangs roaming north of the village and highwaymen on the road blocking the exits. If I try to lead these people out, there will be mass panic and fighting. Most of these people are unarmed…it would be a massacre.”

“Well, as luck would have it, we’ve gotten rid of the highwaymen for you.” Elissa noted the pleased expression on the templar’s face and continued. “If you can see to outfitting us with better weapons and armor, I can do something about these gangs to the north on my way out of Lothering. Perhaps clear the way for you a bit?”

“That would serve well,” the templar replied, visibly relieved. “I’ll let you look through our storage space here in the Chantry. Take what you need."

<<>>

“Thank you Alistair,” said Elissa as they left the Chantry. “I let my temper get the better of me and you kept me from doing something foolish. I am grateful.”

“Well, that’s what I’m here for…to deliver witty one liners and stop people from senselessly killing one another. Oh, and to impress the ladies with my flawless hairstyle.”

“Is that why you spend so long on it? I thought it was some templar tradition…you know, a way to block mages from controlling your thoughts. I had no idea you were trying to be _stylish_.” She elbowed him playfully.

“Ouch! Your rapier wit is an affront to all I hold dear! I will be crying for days now, thank you very much!”

Elissa smiled and walked towards the bridge. A small boy blocked her path. She stopped dead in her tracks, her breath catching. “Oren?” she whispered.

“I can’t find my mum. She told me to meet ‘er ‘ere, but I can’t find her."

Elissa touched her forehead and closed her eyes. Alistair noticed her hand trembled slightly. He watched as she opened her eyes and then slowly knelt down to look at the boy. “Tell me about you mum, little one” she said. Alistair was shocked by how gentle her voice was. She sounded like a different person.

“She said to meet ‘er ‘ere after the bad men came, but I can’t find her.”

Elissa brushed the hair out of the boy’s eyes and then placed her hands gently on his shoulders. “Do you know the story of the Dagmar the Dragonslayer?” she asked.

“No, but I always wanted to see a dragon!” he said, eyes likes two shiny orbs.

“Dagmar was a brave man, fierce like a bear and strong like an ox. He lived in a village surrounded by tall grasses and wild fields. His people worked the fields, and ran through the tall grass when the sun was high. One day, a great dragon came to his village, burning the fields and blackening the land. Dagmar did not flinch. He ordered his people to run from the village and seek safety. Once he knew they were safe, he climbed the highest tower in the village and jumped upon the dragon’s back.” Elissa’s voice was hypnotic, and the little boy gazed into her eyes, spellbound. “The people in the village claimed he rode the dragon to the tallest peaks of the mountains in the distance. They never knew what became of him, and they never saw him or the dragon again. So they returned to their wild fields and began to build anew. One day, when Dagmar’s youngest son had grown into a man, he decided to search for his father. He braved the terrible paths of the mountains, the icy wind of the north, the large cave bears of the fanged mountain passes, the evil hawks of the twisted trees.” Elissa’s voice ebbed and flowed with story, but her hands never left the boys shoulders. “Once he reached the top of the tallest peak, he found the bones of his father lying beside the bones of the great dragon. His sword lay by his side, but the edge was scratched and chipped. Dagmar had used his sword to carve his final words into the mountain side before he died, a final message to his kin.”

“What did it say?” the boy asked eagerly.

Elissa leaned down and whispered into the boy’s ear. He nodded, solemnly, and bit his lower lip.

Elissa stood. She crossed the bridge, quickly, and did not look back.

“I didn’t know you were a story teller," said Alistair, trying to keep up with her. “And a pretty good one too, though I would have added a few battles in there, with the cave bears and all.” When she didn’t answer, he finally asked, “So, what did Dagmar carve into the stone?”

Elissa slowed so he could walk beside her, but didn’t look at him. After a few moments, she answered. “I died so that you may live. Let the snows keep me here, for I died happy. Let the wild grasses keep you.” She walked on, more determined than ever. “His mother is most likely dead. Tis best he accept her sacrifice and move on."

Alistair was glad he could not see her eyes.

<<>>

Ser Gilmore sat nursing his ale, turning his head towards the door every time another traveler walked in. Morrigan refused to wait inside, preferring to stay outside with the horses. Roland would have stayed with her, but he decided against it. For one thing, he found her wolf-like eyes unsettling. He also thought it might be a good idea to assess the situation before Elissa found them. But more importantly, he just wanted to sit and think on his own.

Roland spent most of his life in Highever Castle. He had trained with Fergus and Elissa since he was a boy, along with all the other knights of the household. Fergus had always been aloof, but kind to him. Elissa, however, was similar in age age, so they often trained together. Maker, the trouble she got him into! She always had some devious plan…everything from sneaking out of the castle at night to search for lost treasure to jumping from the waterfalls hidden in the hills. He always prided himself in managing to keep her out of trouble, though he suffered enough embarrassment the few times they were caught.

As they grew up together, they were always a team. In the training yard, they were unstoppable. He was secretly proud that such a noble woman considered him a friend. And he couldn’t stop himself from loving her. It was as necessary to him as breathing.

He was so desperate to find her when he left the castle that horrible night that he didn’t even think about what it would mean when she saw him. All he could think of was the last time he saw her, running with her mother from the main hall. She looked back at him, willing him to fight with that one last, desperate look.

 _She blames me for leaving her mother, I know she does,_ he thought miserably. _And I didn’t even ask her about Fergus._

Roland would have stayed to the bitter end. He would have gladly died there. But Lady Cousland had been adamant. “She will need you Roland. Fergus will need you. They’ve lost everything this night." He felt ashamed that he hadn’t argued with her. He had simply…left. _It was my duty to obey the Couslands,_ he kept telling himself. But deep down, he knew how relieved he was that he was sent to find Elissa…to see her again.

Finding his way to Lothering with no mount and little money was horrific enough. His last view of Highever had been smoke coming from the valley. Howe’s men were burning the fields.

Then, hearing the news about Ostagar upon his arrival…he lost all hope. He thought they both died, the last of the Couslands, massacred by darkspawn. Roland proceeded to get bitterly drunk and managed to spend the night with a whore, waking in the morning to find his last bit of coin stolen. He couldn’t remember what the woman looked like and had left the tavern with shame, his sword and shield still in his possession, miraculously, despite his foolishness. _Thank the Maker I had enough sense to hide the most important bundle in the woods before I came into the village._ He was wandering through the village, a lost man, when he saw her in the distance standing on the bridge. He would know her figure anywhere, her blond hair catching the wind. Never in his life had been so relieved and so ashamed at the same time.

The way she spoke to him at first, so cold and unfamiliar! He could not get that voice out of his head. But she had softened, for a moment, placing her hand on his heart. He wanted to drop down on his knees and beg her forgiveness, but her companions were too close…and he was terrified she would leave him there.

He knew her. He knew her temper and he knew how implacable she could be when she was angry. _She is a woman hard to know and hard to predict_ , her father had once described her to yet another desperate suitor in Roland’s hearing. When he told her what he heard, she scoffed and said “My thoughts are my own unless I choose to share them…and I do not have the patience for someone who thinks they know me before they even speak to me." He smiled at the memory.

Only once had he been brave enough to tell her of his feelings. But he had not demanded she love him, not expected anything from her but that one moment. And she had given it. They never spoke of it again and though their friendship had become a bit more formal, it had endured.

 _Maker, I cannot lose her_ , he thought.

He looked around at the crowded tavern, hoping to take his mind away from these dark thoughts. Roland noticed a Chantry sister sitting in the corner with a shortbow and quiver of arrows strapped to her back. She seemed to be singing to herself softly. _A sister with a weapon? What is the world coming to_?

“We’re looking for Grey Wardens, two of them. One male, one female.” Roland turned his head towards the voice and saw that several men with Loghain’s sigil etched into their armor had stood up from their table near the door. “They turned traitor at the battle of Ostagar and left the King to die. Loghain promises a fine reward for anyone with information.”

 _Grey Wardens?_ he thought. _Elissa and that man…Alistair. She is Grey Warden? And they are hunted now? What in the Maker’s name has she gotten herself into this time?_

He saw the Chantry sister stand quietly and move back into the shadows. At the same moment, Elissa and Alistair walked through the door, Morrigan following behind.

 _Correction…what has she gotten_ me _into this time?  
_

<<>>

Morrigan inhaled the dank smell of the crowded tavern and forced herself not to gag. She could not understand how these people bore the closeness of each other in such a confined space. Her skin felt dirty as soon as she crossed the threshold.

 _I should be guarding our mounts_ , she thought. Her protective spells would deter most from stealing from them, but a determined mind could always break a protective defense. Not that she was too worried…she had seen little determination in this sad excuse for a village.

The horses she managed to get would do little more than carry equipment for them on the road, yet she was pleased at her ability to get two of them for their meager coin. Her magic was limited mostly to physical manipulation, drawing on the elements and hurling them at her foes. Such techniques were useful in the Wilds. However, she also had enough experience with those Chantry fools who occasionally braved the Wilds to find Flemeth to know how to disorient and confuse her opponents. She was happy that these skills had come in useful out of the Wilds as well. She was sure the poor fool who gave up his horses for so little coin would be confused for days.

Not that she felt the need to impress her companions. The two men were both oafish fools. Alistair spent his time either muttering to himself or giving her dark looks. His battle skills were restricted to knocking people down with his shield…his sword wielding was clumsy at best and he lacked the grace she would have expected from a Grey Warden. And Ser Gilmore added nothing more to their party than another mournful face. _These men are made of jelly_ , she thought contemptuously.

Elissa, however, was a different story.

*****

Morrigan assisted as Flemeth healed the injured woman. Her wounds were severe and Morrigan was surprised she survived. She stayed with Elissa through the night while Flemeth attended Alistair. Elissa was fevered and muttering as Morrigan tried to soothe her with cool cloths and herbal poultices.

Morrigan was probing the woman’s mind as she slept. It was a technique she learned from Flemeth. She was unable to read the thoughts of others, but could sense distortions in their mana. Such techniques could be used to sense if someone was lying or afraid. She could manipulate that energy to confuse, paralyze, and even soothe the mind. It was magic in its most basic form, letting one’s mana touch another’s and exert power over them.

She felt the wounded woman struggling with dreams, her mind confused and afraid. Suddenly, Elissa’s eyes flew open.

“Fergus. I must find him.” There was panic in her voice and she looked around the room, disoriented.

As Morrigan silently approached her from across the room, she felt the emptiness descend on the woman like a dark shroud.

She had sensed this strange emptiness in Elissa when she first followed the recruits in the Wilds. It was more difficult to touch the minds of humans in wolf form, but Morrigan had practiced long to use this skill, relying on it as an additional sense, as informative as her eyes and ears. It was how she found them in the first place, her mana sensing the darkspawn taint in Alistair. She was trying to determine their intentions, following them cautiously and letting her mana drift towards them. When the darkspawn appeared, Elissa’s mana had stilled, cutting off all contact. For a brief moment, Morrigan could not touch the woman’s mind.

She thought little of it then, but Flemeth seemed intrigued by it. Thus, Morrigan wanted to learn more.

Morrigan moved cautiously towards the small woman on the cot, trying to touch her mind again to explore the phenomenon. She could feel nothing, not even the taint. It was as if the woman did not exist. It sent chills up Morrigan’s arms.

Her eyes locked on Morrigan and she clenched her fists. “I will kill Howe. I will rip him apart with my bare teeth. Know this, spirit. You shall not claim me until I do." Her voice was clear and unfaltering, which surprised Morrigan. Elissa attempted to rise, reaching towards her.

“I…will…have…his…heart,” she spat through gritted teeth. Before she could reach Morrigan, she fell back in pain, moaning and cursing before finally drifting into a shaking sleep. Her mana was once again tangible, and Morrigan continued to probe her. She could feel terrible pain in the small woman, and it made Morrigan slightly ill to continue touching her mind. Her anger was like a viscous fluid, and despite Morrigan’s attempts, she could not calm the woman enough to make her sleep soundly.

Morrigan was surprised that Elissa did not seem to remember this the next morning. She asked her questions with quiet calm, and even thanked Morrigan for her help, but made no mention of her words in the dark.

But Morrigan had seen enough to know this woman did not make idle threats. When their eyes locked in that moment, Morrigan could feel her rage. She did not need to touch her mind to feel it. It was a simple truth. She did not simply want revenge…she demanded it. But she was also strong enough to make plans and remain calm. She hid her anger behind a cool façade.

 _A cold heart is a strong heart,_ thought Morrigan.

*****

Morrigan’s attention snapped back to the present when she heard Elissa’s voice, sharp and clear above the noisy din. “Keep your finger wrapped around your sword instead of pointed at me, worthless scum, lest you lose it." Morrigan saw five men blocking their further entry. Morrigan was close to the door and watched as two of the men circled around Alistair and Elissa, their backs to her.

 _Foolish_. She smiled to herself.

“Your actions led to the King’s death, traitor,” the man roared. The room became very quiet.

“Your vile accusations do you no more credit than your pointing, fool," Elissa said menacingly. Morrigan saw Ser Gilmore slowly stand behind the three men who were facing the Wardens. Morrigan gently pulled her staff from her back and brought it slowly to her chest. She murmured over it, pulling the smoky breath of the spell from her chest and wrapping it around the two men who stood with their backs to her. “Quiet and still, the darkness binds you,” she murmured. Both men became rigid. Her spell would keep them locked in the fog, allowing Ser Gilmore the element of surprise with the other three men.

As Roland crept upon the man to the right of the leader, a Chantry sister emerged from the shadows with an arrow notched, pointed at the man on the left. “The Warden makes a very good point, gentlemen," she said in a heavy Orlesian accent. “My mother always said that you should think before you speak. I struggle with this myself, but never in such well-armed company."

The leader looked around at his men and noticed Roland for the first time, his sword drawn and ready. He looked behind the Wardens at his other men, their eyes glazed and their mouths hanging open. He looked at the two Wardens, the blazing golden eyes of the man and the dark eyes of the woman.

 _And the trap closes_ , thought Morrigan, satisfied.

Elissa stepped forward, gently cupping the man’s face. He flinched from her touch, his knees turning to water. She moved her head towards him, almost like a lover, and let her face touch his cheek as she whispered into his ear. “I wonder what your blood would taste like…the blood of a liar would be sweet, I’ll wager. Like over-ripened wine. Would you allow me a taste?” He shuddered as she released him.

“I…it appears I…am outnumbered”, he said weakly. Her eyes bore into his. He had never seen a woman look so…menacing.

Elissa’s voice broke the quiet in the room. “I have seen battle and blood these past days, enough for a lifetime. Yet you and your men would have me see more. Perhaps your abandonment of the King left you a bit of stomach to attack us instead. I pity you, worm. And I pity the short lives you will lead following a tyrant." She looked around at the quite patrons of the tavern. “Know this. His words are lies. I spare this man only to save you the horror of more bloodshed." All eyes were on Elissa. She looked back at the leader. “You. Run to Loghain. Tell him we know of his treachery. Tell him we were there and we saw everything." She leaned towards him again. “Tell him we are coming for him."

Morrigan smiled _. Yes,_ she thought, _a cold heart indeed._

<<>>

Alistair’s hands were covered in sweat. He hated the thought of fighting in such cramped quarters. At best, he wouldn’t accidentally stab one of his companions. At worst…well, best not to think of the worst.

He was relieved and confused when the Chantry sister stepped up with her bow. She had bright blue eyes and flaming red hair. At first, he was worried that she was way out of her depth and thought he should tell her to step away. But something about the way she held her bow and the small smile on her lips told him she knew what she was doing. When he saw Ser Gilmore step up with his sword in hand, Alistair had finally stopped sweating.

Elissa wasted no time taking advantage of the situation. He was surprised at the words she whispered to Loghain’s man. _I mean, a little bloodthirst is a good thing, but this is ridiculous,_ he thought to himself _._ But her words had the desired effect. Loghain’s man was distracted and afraid, which allowed her to make her declaration to the room without any interruption or defiance from him. She assured that everyone in the bar thought the man a liar.  

After the men left, he was shocked when Elissa agreed to invite the Chantry sister, Leliana, to join them. _I know we are looking for allies, but this is a bit much._ After thanking Leliana for her help, the group listened to her story. Something about a vision and the Maker…Alistair was sure she was touched in the head. But Elissa crossed her arms and stared for a long moment at the sister. Finally, she said, “I will not deny help when it is offered."

 _Well, so much for keeping a low profile_. The tavern folk wanted to buy them all drinks for the show and Alistair was glad to have a moment during the bustle to talk to Ser Gilmore. He was happy there was another man on the road with them now…and one who knew how to handle a sword and shield at that. Tactically, it improved the defensive line of their party. Elissa had no sense for defense and was completely aggressive, which meant that Alistair was constantly covering her rather than fighting his own targets. Morrigan always stayed in the rear, but he could feel her magic all around him, which made him more nervous than anything. It had worked well so far, but a second shield meant they could engage larger parties more effectively, trading offensive and defensive positions.

Moreover, Alistair was intrigued to have someone in the party who actually knew Elissa. She was obviously not going to be very forthcoming about herself and Alistair wanted to know exactly who was leading them. Plus…well…he just wanted to know more about her. After he held her hand for hours while she slept, he felt like…he should know her.

She was sitting at a table beside Leliana while the good folks of Lothering bustled around her, toasting her and retelling the events they all just witnessed. _They all love her_ , he realized suddenly. He could see it in their faces, the way they smiled at her and brought her food and drinks. Somehow, watching her stand toe to toe with Loghain’s man made them feel she was one of them. That she wanted to protect them and would.

He wondered how they would feel if they knew she was the highest nobility left in the land, besides the queen.

“So Ser Gilmore, you’ve known Elissa a long time,” he said as he sat beside the red-headed knight. “Does she...always have this effect on people?”

Roland looked up at him with a strange look in his eyes. “You mean, does everyone she meets either love her or fear her?”

“Uhh…well, sure…I guess that sums up the question.” Alistair looked at the man closely. His eyes were black around the edges and he looked like he might be just a little drunk.

Roland looked back down to his ale and smiled a sad smile. “Yes, Alistair. But those who know her long enough…they feel a bit of both.”

<<>>

The quanri watched from his cage as the witch packed the horses.

He watched as she spoke quietly to them.

He watched as she looked up and caught his eye.

She studied him for a moment and then approached his cage.

“A proud qunari, trapped by these sad creatures. I would never have believed such a thing possible. How did it come to pass?”

The qunari said nothing. He had no use for witches or questions.

“And yet, you seem resigned to your fate. Pity…such strength as yours would be useful to the party I travel with."

He gazed at her levelly.

“Keep your own counsel then, qunari.” She returned to her horses as two men and two women emerged from the tavern. The qunari noticed the smallest woman giving orders to the group.

 _Leave it to such simple beings to grant leadership to the weakest among them,_ he thought. He watched as the witch pointed him out to this ’leader’. She looked up at him, her eyes hidden by the shade of the tavern. She turned to the red-haired priestess and they spoke for a several minutes. She turned and approached his cage while the others stayed behind.

“You are not one of my captors. I will not amuse you,” he said, angry at her approach. She stopped and turned her eyes to him, studying him quietly. He could not tell what color her eyes were, only that they were dark and intent. He was confused for a moment. She did not flinch at his appearance as the other humans did.

“Why are you caged?” she asked simply.

“As I assume you have been told by the priestess, I killed an entire family."

“Capturing you must have been difficult."

The qunari stiffened. “I let them take me."

She studied him for along moment, her eyes never leaving his. “I know of men who murder families. They are not so quick to let their captors take them. Instead, they run and hide like the cowards they are. Cowards kill the helpless, the weak. Are you a coward?”

“As I said, I am not here to amuse you.”

She squared her shoulders and stared at him, unrelenting “Do I look amused to you?”

He looked at her long. “I do not have to justify myself to you.”

“Justice will be served with your death. Though…” she hesitated, “little else can come of it. Left as food for the darkspawn, it seems your fate will be little different than many others.”

The qunari watched as she looked away to the North. She stood so still that the quanri thought she had forgotten him. When she looked back to him, her eyes were hard and flat. “Do you wish for atonement?”

“Death will be my atonement.”

“All men die. That is not atonement. That is nature.”

“What do you propose?”

“You help me fight the Blight. You die serving others, protecting the weak in place of those you’ve slain. You find your atonement.”

“The Blight…are you a Grey Warden then?”

“I am.”

“Hmph.” The qunari knew of this order. Seeing this small woman in front of him made him question the legends.

“Will you fight with me, or will you stay here and die as all men do?”

The qunari weighed her words. “I will fight.”


	11. A New Role

Elissa’s shoulders ached from the fighting. She would have given all she had for a warm bath. Of course, she didn’t have much at the moment to give. Still, the thought of lying back in a warm tub made her body ache even worse.

She looked around at her group. The qunari, Sten, was building a fire in the center of camp. It had been difficult to convince the Chantry sisters to free him. Luckily, Leliana had been there to say what needed to be said. When he stepped from his cage, a part of Elissa wanted to call it all off. After all, he killed a whole family, and she knew what that meant. But when she looked into those strange purple eyes, she saw something there…a mixture of resignation and regret. Killing that family was not trivial to him, she knew, despite his clipped words to her. She would give him time, but she would eventually find out what happened and why. For now, she reserved her judgment and was thankful to have an extra pair of eyes in camp.

Leliana and Roland were off hunting game while Alistair was busy putting up the small lean-to tents they had acquired. Morrigan once again set up her own camp and Elissa did not question her decision to sleep apart from the others. Elissa stayed by the horses, brushing their coats. Morrigan had done well to get the pack mounts, but she hoped they would be able to get mounts to ride soon. Her feet were already blistered from all the walking today, though it was a relief to have their packs carried for them.

They spent most of the afternoon fighting the bands of robbers in the northern fields of Lothering. Morrigan was furious at what she considered a waste of time, but Elissa had other motivations besides keeping her word to the Lothering templars. She wanted to see how well they fought together. It was easier to observe her group and mark their weaknesses and strengths while hunting down bands of outlaws than it would be in the chaos of a darkspawn attack.

Elissa was surprised at Alistair’s skill and grace with sword and shield. It seemed that having a fellow warrior such as Roland beside him bolstered his confidence. Their years of training kicked in and the two men worked fluidly together, trading attack positions when needed. She had little to do there.

Morrigan’s spells kept the enemies confused, which made strategy easier. And, as she often cast her spells from a distance, Elissa did not have to worry about protecting her. Sten was so much bigger and stronger than his opponents, and his appearance so fearsome, that most ran from him and straight into Elissa’s daggers.

Leliana was sharp and quick and her arrows always seemed to hit her target where and when it was most needed. Elissa was also surprised to find that she had daggers hidden in her robes was deft at both evading and standing against enemies at close range. _How could chantry sister be so good in battle?_ she wondered. Leliana’s justification for joining them left more questions than answers. However, she had saved them from a tight spot in Lothering and Elissa thought her intentions were genuine, if not misguided. Elissa would be patient…but she expected answers in time.

_This is my army._

The problem was, she had to start being the leader as well. With so many personalities, it was daunting to imagine how she would win their trust and support. True, they fought well together. But so much depended on following orders in a real battle. She needed to make them trust her. Furthermore, she needed to know she could trust them. Her father once told her that men fight for love and loyalty first and foremost. She had to win them over, somehow.

 _I am a Cousland_ , she thought. _It is in my blood to lead_. However, no matter how many times she repeated these words, they felt false to her. Was she really a Cousland anymore? Her lands were gone, her family destroyed. And if that was her fault, then did she truly _deserve_ to lead?

Part of her just wanted to run away. If she were alone, she could seek out Howe and make him suffer. But she knew her duty as well. Even though she became a Grey Warden almost by accident, she was no fool. She realized that the Blight was more important than anything else and that she and Alistair were the only hope to get the armies of Ferelden to stand together.

She rested her head on the brown horse, breathing it in. She wished she could open up to someone, but everyone was so guarded here. Even Roland, in his grief, seemed almost a stranger to her. And he had always been guarded, even as a child. She missed the laughter in the practice yard of Highever, the easy camaraderie between the men of the guard. She had grown up with them, trained with them, always secure in the knowledge that she would fight beside them. She felt so alone now. It seemed impossible to her…how could she be all the things she needed to be when she felt so isolated?

<<>>

Alistair kept sneaking glances at Elissa as he worked. She stood brushing the horses, strands of hair that had escaped her braids lifting in the breeze. He watched as she rested her head on one of the horses for a moment, her eyes closed.

He wanted desperately to help her in some way. He knew she was worried about leading. He remembered how he felt in the Kokori Wilds with just three recruits to coordinate. He couldn't imagine how much the burden of all these people, most of them strangers, must be to her.

When he finished setting the tents up, he walked over. She raised her head and gently smiled at him. He paused for moment. _Maker’s breath, she is lovely_. He shook his head slightly, but before he could speak, she said, “We should take advantage of this lake, you know. I doubt all our campsites will be so perfectly situated, so we should all bathe while we have the chance."

The thought of her naked made him blush and he felt very hot all of the sudden. He shifted uncomfortably and said, “Well, err, yes, that is probably a good idea. No need for our smell to attract more darkspawn, right?” He knew he was talking too fast, but he couldn’t stop himself. “But, you know, umm…maybe we should…let the girls and boys go separately. I mean, Sten may get nervous getting naked around so many women…I wouldn’t want to insult his qunari sensibilities or anything…and…you know…”

Elissa looked at him seriously and then started giggling. The redder he got, the more she giggled, until she finally burst out laughing. Alistair was embarrassed, but at the same time…this was the first time he ever heard her laugh. It was clear and full and reminded him somehow of light rippling over water at dawn. It made him feel good to get that out of her, even if it was at his own expense.

“Oh…Alistair…I’m…sorry,” she said between fits of giggles. “I don’t know why…I am…laughing like this.” She looked at him and started laughing all over again.

“Well, I _was_ raised in the Chantry, you know. It’s not like naked women were a regular part of my upbringing. Unless you count Sister Agatha, who was half mad and ancient. She would sometimes streak though the hallways in the middle of the night and the younger sisters would run after, trying to cover her up…though we all tried really hard not to look."

She continued laughing, tears starting to run down her face. He started laughing too, caught up the moment with her. Elissa finally got herself under control. She hiccupped a little from all the laughing and suddenly hugged Alistair tightly. He was so shocked, he wasn’t sure what to do. Her head was on his chest and he heard her muffled voice say, “Thank you, Alistair. I feel like I haven’t laughed in years." She sighed and he couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around her. He felt happier than he felt in days, standing with her like this.

She finally let go and stepped back. “Sorry, that was a bit…intimate." She blushed, suddenly awkward. “I just…it just felt really good to laugh." She bent down to pick up the brush she had dropped and started to turn towards the horses. She paused for moment, and then looked up at him with a devilish gleam in her eyes. “So…if you were raised in the Chantry, have you never…”

Alistair was mortified, but tried his best to hide it. “Never what? Never ate a jellied ham?"

She giggled again and blushed deeper. “Damn it Alistair, you know what I mean!”

“I’m not sure I do,” he teased, happy to have the upper hand. “Have I never…owned a new pair of shoes…. seen a basilisk…licked a lamppost in winter?”

“Now, _you_ are making fun of _me_?” She asked, arching her eyebrows playfully.

“Make fun of you dear lady, perish the thought!” When she laughed again, he asked in a wicked voice, “Well, what about you…have you ever licked a lamppost in winter?”

She looked down, suddenly shy. “Maybe just once…just to…you know…see what it was like."

“Hmm” he said, smiling. “Sounds like pure agony on the tongue. And yet, people always seem to want to do it. I myself have never had the pleasure. Not that I haven’t thought about it, of course. But…you know…”

“So…you’re a virgin? That’s so sweet," she said.

“Sweet? Perfect! Just what I always wanted to be… _sweet_. I am not doing very well am I?”

“You’re doing just fine…but sadly…it looks like I’ll be swimming alone. The Chantry may come after me if I accidently sullied your honor.” She laughed as he pretended to be terrified. She grabbed her bag from the ground and started to walk towards the lake. “But if you change your mind…” she said as she turned and tossed the brush to him, “I promise not to peek!”

Alistair turned back to the horses, and made do with replaying their talk over and over in his head. Every so often, he would turn his gaze wistfully towards the lake.

<<>>

Roland was happy to get away from camp for a time. He knew his hiding-place was nearby and he wanted to retrieve the hidden bundle as soon as possible. Leliana brought down several pheasants with her bow and so he didn’t feel bad about leaving her for a bit to retrieve it. When he found it, he examined the contents and then gently wrapped it, holding it almost reverently as he made his way back.

When he reached camp, Roland was surprised to find Elissa sitting alone by the fire, combing through her wet hair. She had taken off her armor and had on a simple pair of leather breeches and a loose white shirt.

When she looked up at him, she smiled gently and motioned for him to sit beside her.

“Come sit with me, Roland. Morrigan is preparing Leliana’s catch. Sten and Alistair are swimming and Leliana just went to join them, though...“ she smiled a secretive sort of smile, “I imagine that means at least one of the party will return soon. We have a few moments to talk.”

They both sat quietly for a few moments, staring into the fire. “Roland," she finally said, “please forgive how I acted this morning.” He was shocked and started to protest and she interrupted. “No, listen to me. When I first saw you, I thought that somehow, you had convinced my mother to leave Highever with you. When I realized that wasn’t the case…I was angry.” She hung her head and sighed. “I left her too. I left her because she convinced me it was my duty. And I am angry with her for doing that to me. And I am angry with myself for listening to her. And I am angry with you for doing the same.”

She paused and looked thoughtfully at the fire. “But I cannot be angry right now. I have a job to do and I need your help. I need you because I know you are loyal, and good…and because I respect you.” She looked into his eyes, and he noticed how tired she looked. “It was you who pulled me back from the brink, Roland. I cannot explain how or why, but you did. Now that you are truly here, I need you to keep me from…losing myself…out here…amidst all this.”

Roland nodded solemnly. “My lady, I…”

“No, Roland. I am no longer ‘my lady’. I am Elissa and you are Roland, just as when we were children, sitting on barrels and talking of knights. We gave up our titles when we…left Highever. When my family died at the hand of Howe’s curs.” He noticed how she clutched the grass at her side when she said Howe’s name. She looked up at him, eyes severe. “We will dwell no longer on regrets, and will offer no apologies. Understood?”

Roland knew she was right. But she sounded so much like her father in that moment that he had to say something. He steeled himself. “My lady…I mean…Elissa…I will follow you wherever you lead.” He turned fully towards her and bowed his head, reverently. “I have something for you from your mother.” He watched her eyes widen as he brought the bundle forward. “Your mother wanted me to deliver your family’s sword to Fergus, but he is…well…missing.” He faltered for a moment and then spoke with more authority. “Despite what you say, you are a Cousland. And so this belongs to you, now.” He opened the bundle and watched as she drew the sword from it. It glimmered by the light of the fire, seeming to shine from within. For a moment, her eyes reflected its gleam and she seemed as fierce as a battle maiden from the legends. She looked down, tracing the laurel wreath that wound around the pommel with her delicate fingers.

Elissa inhaled deeply. She turned to Roland, eyes shining. “You are forgiven, my friend.”

Before he could respond, Alistair came running from the lake, carrying his boots and shirt and looking completely disheveled. “That sister…not one ounce of shame. What were they teaching them in the Lothering chantry?” He looked down at Elissa accusingly. “You did that on purpose,” he said with a scowl. Elissa tilted her head back and laughed and Roland joined her, though he had no idea what they were laughing at.

<<>>

“We have to do something…she’ll wake the whole camp.”

Alistair looked up from his bedroll at Morrigan, who was standing over him with a scowl on her face. He sighed. “What will you have me do…pitch her in the lake? She does this every night. She has to sleep, you know.”

Morrigan crossed her arms and stared down at Alistair. “You were able to make her sleep soundly in the Wilds. Perhaps you could…”

“Oh sure, just crawl into her tent and hold her hand…I am sure she wouldn’t get the wrong idea or anything."

“You don’t have to crawl in…it is open on one side. Can’t you just go and sit beside her? Soothe her with your muttering?”

“Why don’t you do it?”

“Because I trying to guard the camp. Moreover, I am hardly the soothing type. It is obvious that your oafish presence calms her. Maybe it is because you are a Grey Warden as she is. I am not sure, but I do know that she cannot be getting real rest if she is thrashing about like that.”

“Fine! But if she wakes up and yells at me, you have to do the explaining. I will get all tongue-tied and sound like a complete ass…and I do that enough as it is.”

“As to that, we are agreed.”

Alistair walked over to the open side of the lean-to and looked down at Elissa. She was muttering and twisting, her breath ragged. Alistair sat quietly beside her and placed his hand on her brow. She relaxed for a moment and her breathing became deeper. _I guess I have the magic touch_ , he thought. He slowly withdrew his hand and Elissa sat upright, he eyes open and her arms reaching out in front of her. “Don’t take him from me!” she wailed. Alistair pulled her to him, more by instinct than anything else, and she crumpled into his arms, shaking. “He is gone. His arms were so tiny. He was…reaching…for me. I could not hold him." She shook as he held her close.

“It was just a dream, Elissa. You must try to block them out,” He rocked her gently until her ragged breathing quieted. He could feel her trembling in his arms.

After a while, she looked up at him, her eyes black in the darkness. “It was no dream, Alistair. It is what happened. I let them all die, my whole family. Oren and Oriana, my parents. All the men I left guarding the castle. Even my brother Fergus. I failed them. How can I be a Grey Warden? How can I lead you all when I failed those I loved most?”

Alistair kept his arms around her, trying to shelter her from her own thoughts. “I failed my brothers as well, Elissa. I escaped that tower and they all died and I feel like…like I was the one who should have died. I was the youngest, the least among them. And yet here I am…with you. Maybe we were given a second chance, both of us, a chance to do it right this time. We can help one another. We can hold this all together somehow. You are not alone. I won’t leave you to do this alone, I promise.”

Elissa was calm now, looking up at him intently. “You are…good…aren’t you? A decent person. I forgot how to tell, with all the madness.” She closed her eyes and laid her head on his chest. “Stay with me Alistair, please. Just for a few more minutes.”

“Of course,” he said. All of his own hurt seemed to fall away as he held her. He started talking, telling her stories of the Grey Wardens. After a while, she sat up, sitting close and listening to him. He talked about the fellowship they all had, about the crazy drinking games and laughter. He spoke of Duncan. She smiled at times, asking him questions here and there. Their voices were quiet murmurs in the darkness.

After a while, he asked her, “Do you…do you want to talk about your family?”

She was quiet for a moment. “My sister-in-law, Oriana. She was Antivan, and had this beautiful accent that made very word sound like a caress. When my brother first brought her home for their wedding, the other nobles were furious. After all, the heir of Highever was a great catch for one of their daughters. Still, they all came to the wedding so as to not offend my father.

"It is tradition for the sisters of the groom to help the bride prepare for her big day. Since I was the only one, poor Oriana only had me to help her get dressed. We hadn’t spoken much and I was nervous. I was all knees and elbows, just thirteen. I rarely even wore a dress myself and had no idea what I was doing. Oriana spent most of the time soothing me.” She smiled at the memory.

“As we were preparing, my brother came quietly into the room. Oriana had her back turned to him, her arms above her head adjusting her hair. He stood there, just staring at her. Like she was the most perfect thing he had ever seen. He snuck up behind her and grabbed her, swinging her around. He was so young! And he was so happy. I had never seen Fergus laugh so much. And the way that they looked at each other... I will never forget that day.” Elissa faltered for a moment, hanging her head. Alistair didn’t know what to do, so he placed his hand over hers.

“Oh, Alistair. There is a part of me that hopes he is dead. How can I tell him what they did to her? She was so kind. And funny. And strong. A better woman than me. Fergus didn’t care that the nobles grumbled. He didn’t care that she wasn’t born in Ferelden. He didn’t care about anything but loving her. It was her purpose, in a way. She filled his life with love. And she gave him Oren.” She raised her head and looked at him. “How can I be alive when I have no such claim? When I have never given anyone what she gave to my brother? How can she be gone when her life meant so much?”

Alistair couldn’t stop himself. Her eyes were so sad, and it touched him deeply. He reached up and gently touched her cheek. She inhaled, holding her breath, staring at him. He just looked in her eyes, wanting desperately to say something to soothe her. But he had no words.

She looked confused for a moment. “We should…try to sleep. We have a long march tomorrow.”

He nodded. Before he moved, however, Elissa leaned over and kissed his cheek. It was quick and gentle, but he was so shocked he didn’t move.

“Thank you for being my friend, Alistair. I am glad…I am glad that we don’t have to go through all of this alone. Either of us.”

She let go of his hand and laid down in her tent, curling up with her back away from him.

He rose and walked unsteadily back to his bedroll. He lay for a while on his back, staring up at the stars. His hand kept creeping up to his cheek, where her lips had been. Finally, he drifted off into sleep.


	12. A Warden’s Best Friend

The white wolf was quiet as she walked through the camp. She smelled the humans, wrapped in their blankets. She smelled the strange herbs sprinkled in the dying fire. She smelled the metal and the horses and the leather. She knew these smells.

Her hackles rose and she turned. A dark wolf with golden eyes walked towards her slowly, teeth bared. She snarled in return, ready for a fight. The blood was in her.

The dark wolf eyed her cautiously, paws touching the ground in deliberate slow steps. It stopped. Its eyes were intelligent and intrigued. It showed no fear.

The white wolf hesitated. Something in the back of her mind was reaching forward, a memory. _Magic user_ , it breathed. _Magic calls, magic binds_. _Beware._

The white wolf retreated slowly, slinking back into the forest. _East towards the sunrise. Back to my home._

The dark wolf watched as she retreated, marking her progress. The dark wolf would remember.

<<>>

“I think we need to go the Brecilian Forest,” Morrigan said as they packed up the camp. Elissa looked up at her questioningly, but Morrigan offered no explanation.

“Want to look up some of your witch friends I take it,” Alistair quipped. “Oh, wait. I forgot, you don’t have friends, do you?”

“The Brecilian Forest is nearby and closer than Redcliffe. The Dalish are camped on its outskirts, most likely. It may be difficult to travel back this way again once you go north. It will likely be your only chance.”

Elissa had to agree with the logic of Morrigan’s words, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that Morrigan was leaving something out. Before she could puzzle through it, Alistair drew his sword, his face a sudden mask of fury. “Darkspawn, to the west."

Elissa felt a strange pull in the pit of stomach and she knew he was right. She could…feel them…vaguely. “Roland and Alistair, with me. Sten and Leliana, go to the north and try to get a flanking position. Morrigan, to the south and do the same. Go now!” Without hesitation, the group leapt to obey. _Thank the maker for that_ , she thought.

They heard shouting as they neared the road. Elissa could see a wagon with two dwarves cowering on the top. Several darkspawn had them surrounded and were taunting the terrified dwarves. The older dwarf looked up and saw them. “Help us, please!” he shouted.

So much for the element of surprise, thought Elissa. A large hurloch turned towards her, his mouth curved to a vicious snarl. He leapt towards her and she ran to meet him. Her daggers caught him at the throat, but they barely scraped the skin. The hurloch kept coming and knocked her down. She rolled to avoid the downward swing of his axe. As she struggled to stand, he grabbed her from behind, his meaty arm crushing her windpipe. Elissa could see Alistair and Roland slashing and beating their way through the group. She could not call to them. Before her vision faded completely to black, she felt the hurloch tense then release her. As she gasped for breath and struggled to rise, she saw Morrigan in the distance, her eyes focused on the hurloch, and shafts of golden light swirling around her staff. He fell to the ground, thrashing and holding his head. Elissa plunged her dagger through his chest again and again until he stopped moving. She rose unsteadily to join the battle around her.

She heard Sten before she saw him, roaring as he ran into the fray. He held the longsword above his head and with one swipe, nearly carved a small genlock in half. Without pausing, he charged another genlock, knocking him to the ground. With a roar, he plunged the sword through its throat and twisted it. The genlock twitched uncontrollably on the ground.

Elissa saw another large hurloch running towards Sten from behind. She moved quickly, leaping past Alistair and jumping over the bodies strewn at his feet. She bulled into the hurloch just as it reached Sten and they both fell to the ground, the hurloch beneath her. She stabbed downwards with her daggers, both weapons buried deep in his chest. She whipped her head around and her eyes met Sten’s. He nodded quickly and they both rose to finish the others.

She could hear Leliana in the distance laughing and singing. She saw several darkspawn trying to run away, but Leliana’s arrows found them all and they dropped in the fields surrounding the road.

“Ahh, nothing like death and dismemberment to start the day off right,” said Alistair as he wiped blood from his sword.

Elissa looked up to the dwarves “It is safe, you can come down now."

The dwarves jostled down from atop the wagon and came down to the road, standing before Elissa. The older dwarf had dark hair and his eyes were wide with wonderment at all he had just witnessed. The younger dwarf had thin, pale blond hair and was smooth-faced, with a lack-witted expression.

The older dwarf spoke up. “I can’t begin to thank you enough for helping my boy and I. Bodhan Feddic is my name. A trader of sorts. And this is my son Sandal. We are deeply in your debt."

Elissa bowed slightly. “I am Elissa and these are my companions. Fighting darkspawn is our trade, Bodhan. We were glad to help." She looked to the dead horse on the road and then back at the wagon. “What type of goods do you trade in, exactly?”

“Well,” said Bodhan, shuffling his feet a bit, “We basically trade for anything. Armor, weaponry, valuables of all sorts. The countryside is full of death and destruction at the moment and my boy and I travel about and…make use of…items folk lose along the way. No use in wastefulness, right?” Bodhan motioned towards the dead horse. “Sadly, we may have to go into a new business. Without our horse, our wagon is stuck here, I’m afraid.”

Elissa looked at the wagon again. “It seems to me we can help one another. My friends and I will likely encounter much death and destruction in our travels...thus, goods will come into our possession on a regular basis, I imagine. But there are things we need more than those goods. Such as faster transport and help in our camp.”

“I don't know,” said Bodhan, doubtfully. “My boy and I are not warriors. You could be dangerous to travel with.”

“More dangerous than traveling alone?” She said, motioning to the bodies on the road. “We have a mount that could pull your wagon. We need to pass quietly but quickly around Ferelden, and it would do us good to be able to use the road when we can, but disappear quickly from sight if needed without worrying about our supplies. We could also use extra hands in camp to keep an eye on things if we get delayed or need set up a base camp for a few days. In return, we can offer you protection on your travels and steady trade. Do you accept?”

Bodhan looked again at the bodies along the road. He looked back to this wagon and then turned to Elissa. He held out his hand “That is fair deal. I accept."  

<<>>

“So tell me something,” Alistair said. “What really happened at the tourney at Whitehand Hall?” They had been walking in silence for a while, but as they made their way into the edges of the Brecilian Forest, it all became a little too tense for his liking. Plus, he was determined to make conversation to stem any awkwardness from the night before.

Elissa looked over at him with a wry smile. “Why do you ask? Did you hear that I turned into a wolf and devoured my enemies?” Morrigan turned her head sharply at these words, but neither noticed her response.

“Well, I did wonder with all the talk for tasting blood back in Lothering.”

Elissa looked shocked for a moment and then laughed. “My sword master Guran used to tell me stories of the Couslands, how my ancestors destroyed werewolves in the forests long ago. Legends become twisted through time and some believed that the Couslands would feast on the werewolves, to strike fear into them. Give them a taste of their own medicine.”

“I imagine a cook at such a fine castle could whip up some good werewolf stew," mused Alistair.

“Not Nan…she hated dogs! Anyway, when we would practice in the yard, Guran would always say the most horrific stuff…you know…'I will feast on your liver this day', that sort of thing. I just picked it up, I guess.” She looked into the gloomy undergrowth of the trees, but it looked to Alistair like her eyes were far away. “The funny thing is, I have been saying things like that for so long that I sort of feel that way when I fight. Like I am tasting the blood of enemies…like the fight is a feast of sorts.” She looked back at Alistair who couldn’t help but give her a small smile. She smiled back and her eyes lightened. “And, it really unnerves your enemy to say things like that.”

“Oh yes, imagine being devoured by a beautiful woman in the midst of battle. Sounds terrifying to me, at least.”

“Ha! So you think I’m beautiful?” she asked in playful voice, her eyebrow slightly raised.

 _Always put my foot right into my mouth, don’t I_? “You’ll not get it out of me that easily, woman…I reserve the right to say nothing of your beauty until it suits my devious purposes…mwah ha ha!”

“I can’t imagine you being devious Alistair. But back to your original question. The melee at Whitehand Hall….I was young…only fifteen…and it was my first real tourney. Ser Edmund and his brothers were completes asses, and bullies at that. Roland was also competing for the first time and the young lords thought it beneath their dignity to fight a youth who…whose father had such poor holdings. So, they decided it would be a great laugh to piss on his armor before he suited up for the field. I was furious when I found out. Roland and I grew up together, trained together. He knew who did it, but he didn’t want to do anything to dishonor the Couslands. So, I decided to get revenge for him.” Elissa’s eyes sparkled with mischief and Alistair couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot.

“Ser Edmund had a male mabari. His kennel master and my family’s kennel master had been discussing breeding his mabari with my father’s female. But as you know, breeding mabaris is a delicate proposition…almost political. The mabari will be bound to whomever it chooses, so it doesn’t really matter which family breeds it. Ser Edmund’s kennel master thought of a way he might be able to convince the pup to bond with one of the Edmure’s siblings instead of a Cousland, which would be more likely if the pup stayed with the female at our estate. Because the first pup had bonded with me when it was born, he decided to try to pull the odds in their favor. He had created a likeness of a mabari and planned to ween the pup, once it was born, using the stuffed mabari as a surrogate, thus separating it from my father’s mabari and only allowing it to see Ser Edmund’s kin.

“I found this stuffed mabari, which looked very like Ser Edmund’s own dog. So, before the melee, I filled the beast with all kinds of things from the larder…pork sausages, blood sausage, intestines. It looked quite horrific. I sewed it up and placed it in a barrel near the pit early that morning. When the melee had reached its height, I was still standing with two other knights and Ser Edmund. I didn’t care at all about winning. I ran over to the fence while the other three battled it out and pulled the mabari from the barrel. I yelled “Edmund…I believe I will feast early!” He looked up and watched as I slit the poor stuffed creature from navel to throat. If that was not bad enough, I…reached in and pulled out a piece of meat and…well…sort of gnawed on it a bit."  

“Gods woman you are terrifying!” said Alistair in mock horror.

“Are you just realizing that? Ser Edmund screamed like a babe and ran from the field, crying to his father. If he had any wits at all, he would have remembered that mabaris are always kenneled during a tourney. The other two knights were completely horrified…as was the whole audience, really…except for Guran who I could hear laughing over the din. The two knights ran to their tents shouting “She is a beast, a beast!” When everything calmed down, I was declared the winner because I was the last on the field. To be clear, it was not my intention to win in this underhanded way. My parents were enraged. I had to apologize to all the knights, as you can imagine. Ser Edmund was terrified of me from that day on and the story got turned into all manner of foulness.”

Alistair was laughing so hard that tears were running out of his eyes. “I must say, that was horrific. But brilliant, too. You actually ate the intestines…ewww…”

“Well, it was an important lesson. Never underestimate the power of dramatic effect.”

They walked on in silence for a while. Alistair looked back at Roland, who was walking in determined silence as Leliana chattered away at him happily.

“So, Roland…you’ve known him long, I take it?”

“Most of my life. We grew up together, trained together. I tried to get him into as much trouble as possible while he tried hard to be a respectable knight.” She smiled at the thought.

“He doesn’t say much, does he?”

Elissa shrugged. “Roland tends to keep his thoughts to himself. He has always been this way. Though…when he does speak, it is often with surprising depth. I have great respect for him.”

“Yes…well…depth is good. Still waters run deep, or so I’ve heard.” Alistair continued walking, chewing his bottom lip.

“We look out for one another, and I trust him. But he is…he doesn’t take things lightly. It is hard for him to laugh.” She was thoughtful for a moment. “Sometimes, you need to laugh, don’t you think?” She looked at him, her eyes playful.

Alistair smiled. “So…you and he never…umm…”

“Caboodled?”

“Caboodled? Is that even a real word?”

She giggled. “That _is_ what you are asking, is it not?”

Alistair blushed. “You know, I think you are way too clever, getting me into these conversations that you know embarrass me. I am not asking for any details or anything. It just seems like…like…he feels… _intense_ towards you. I’ve been feeling his eyes dig into the back of my neck the whole time we’ve been walking together.”

She smiled. “He is a Highever knight. He’s supposed to watch anyone that talks to me. Moreover, he is _intense_ about a lot of things. I wouldn’t let it bother you.”

“No! I’m not… _bothered_ by it. I just noticed it. But you still haven’t answered my question.”

She kept looking at him, her eyes unreadable. Then, she shrugged. “My family would never have allowed it.”

Alistair wasn’t sure if that had really answered his question or not, but he didn’t want to push it.

She was quiet for a moment. “I am not sure I have it in me to love, to tell you the truth. I have a…unique condition. It is better for me to be on my own.”

“Condition? What do you mean?”

Elissa hesitated. “It’s…hard to explain. Uggg…I hope I don’t regret this, but…you need to know in case…something happens.”

“Can you sound more ominous?”

She sighed. “I have a dark temper. My mother called it ‘the blood’. When I am angry, it is hard for me to stop it…it feels like my heart is going to burst from my chest. Nothing exists for me but that sound. And I…am not myself when that happens. I…lose control and can be…dangerous.”

“What do you mean…dangerous?"

“I…sort of…black out, I guess. When it happens, I have a difficult time discerning who is and who is not an enemy. I just…attack every damned thing I see until it passes.”

“Ahhh…yes…Duncan spoke with me about that.”

She looked surprised. “He did? When?”

“Right before we left for the Kokori Wilds. He told me that you had…what did he call it? The berserker rage. He said it was similar to the ash warriors, but that you were still learning to control it. He was worried it might come out when you saw your first darkspawn, which is why I wanted to engage the first ones we saw alone. Of course, you attacked anyway…against my orders, as I recall.”

She smiled at the memory. “Yes, I still remember that look on your face. It doesn’t suit you, you know.”

“What doesn’t?”

“That…annoyed look. It reminds me of my mother.”

“Great. Just what a man wants to hear. Don’t worry about stroking my ego or anything. It’s soooo much better if you torture me with every other word.”

She laughed. “It was more the way you crossed your arms and looked down at me. I was just waiting to get lectured…”

“All right, all right…point made.” He crossed his arms and she laughed again. He smiled. “So…what does any of that have to do with being able to love someone? I mean, it’s just a fighting style, more or less. Isn’t it?”

She looked serious. “No, it’s not. Berserkers train to use it, but I have trained to _control_ it, to keep it from overtaking me. But it doesn’t always work. So…love is not a good option, really.”

“You mean…you’re afraid you will hurt the people who are close to you?”

She shrugged. “I suppose it is possible. I can usually stop it before that happens. Roland has seen it, and he still…he is still my friend. I have never hurt _him_. But…it’s more complicated than that.”

“Ahhh…women and complications.” Alistair smiled knowingly.

Elissa rolled her eyes. She struggled for a moment to find the right words. “There is a part of me that feels like that rage…that it’s my true self, struggling to get out. That I am nothing but that beating heart. I don’t think…I don’t think it is fair for me to love anyone or inflict that on anyone. Sometimes, I feel that I am not…a good person, not really. That I am faking it, just repeating what I see others do. I sometimes think that if I let the blood take me completely, that I would be a monster.”

They walked on in silence for a while, both lost in their thoughts.

Alistair suddenly remembered the black look in her eyes after she fed the prisoner in Ostagar. “When you get that way….does nothing break through to you?”

She shrugged. “There are techniques I have been training in most of my life that help. The same focus I use to fight. I use them to find a memory to latch onto, something to still it. Something warm and beautiful. My mind always finds something.” She sighed and looked down. “With all of this…the Blight, my…family. All this treachery and pain. I am worried that I won’t have anything left after a while. That it will all be darkness in my thoughts and what brightness I have at all will just…cease to be. It is what frightens me the most, more than any darkspawn.”

She looked back over her shoulder at Roland and Leliana. “I think that is why I agreed to take Leliana with us, to be truthful. Her vision…the darkness swallowing everything. I know what that is like. What it actually _feels_ like. And I want to stop it, too.”

“We’ll stop it together, Elissa.” They walked on. “And if you do turn into a monster, I’ll let you know. I have a knack for dealing with monsters.”

She smiled at him, a full smile that reached her eyes. She reached down and grabbed his hand. He was a little shocked, but he grasped hers back. “Thank you Alistair. You find me in the night and soften my dreams for me, listen to my dark tales, and I have nothing to give back to you but my thanks. Would that I could return the favor.”

There was a thrashing sound in the trees.

She let go of his hand and put her hands to her daggers. The whole party stopped.

Alistair tensed, listening. He heard a howl, deep and mournful. It sent chills up his arms.

Elissa’s took sharp breath in. Her lip trembled. “Tellux?” she whispered. She yelled “Tellux…here!”

The sound of the mabari running through the trees confused everyone. When he broke through into the clearing, he did not stop until he crashed into Elissa. They fell to the ground, a jumble of mabari and woman. The mabari howled and whined while Elissa stared at him wide eyed.

“You’re alive…you’re alive…you’re alive…” she kept saying over and over again. She let the beast lick her face and she ran her hands over him, looking for injuries. Alistair watched her. He saw something in her he had never seen before. She loved that animal, it was plain _._ Alistair smiled as he watched her calm the mabari, kissing its nose.

She stood and the group gathered round the animal. “Everyone, this is Tellux. He is a fierce warrior and loyal to the core.” She crouched down and spoke to him. “Tellux, you must protect these people, as you protect me. Do you understand?” The mabari barked and walked around to each of them, sniffing. When he saw Roland, he licked his hand allowed the knight to pet him.

Elissa was a different person for the rest of the day. She moved among them, reaching down occasionally to pat her beloved mabari. She moved back and forth between everyone, chatting occasionally to Sten, Morrigan, Leliana, Roland. She even talked with the dwarves for a while, letting the dim boy Sandal pet her mabari. The boy clapped when the dog licked his face. Elissa smiled like it was the best thing she had ever seen.

Her eyes were bright and full and she laughed often. Alistair felt like he was seeing her for the first time, how she must have been before…everything happened.


	13. The Dalish

Leliana noticed that trees were getting denser. She felt a prickling sensation up and down her arms.

She moved closer to Elissa. “We are being watched.”

Elissa nodded. “For a while now. I only hope it is the Dalish and they give us a chance to talk before attacking.”

Leliana looked around her. “Perhaps I can help. I know some Dalish songs. Should I sing one as we walk?”

“It couldn’t hurt.”

Leliana softly sang as they walked. She kept her eyes open, trying to see through the dense forest. But she could hear movements now and again around them. Finally, one of the Dalish made their presence known.

“Stop right there shemlens. We have you surrounded.” Leliana looked around and saw Dalish hunters with their bows notched and aimed at each of them. She wasn’t sure which of them spoke.

Leliana stopped singing. The mabari growled and Elissa placed her hand on his head, holding the other aloft in a sign of peace. “We do not come to fight.”

The voice answered. “What you come for is not of interest to us. The Dalish are camped here and we do not suffer outsiders.”

Elissa remained calm. “We seek the Dalish. We need to speak with your leader.”

An elven woman dropped down from one of the trees. Her face was covered in tattoos, Dalish symbols in a deep red that ran along her high cheekbones. Her bow was notched and pointed at Elissa. “That was foolish. We do not allow armed shemlens to pass through our hunting grounds.”

“Our arms are not for attacking Dalish. I am a Grey Warden. I seek the Dalish for aid.”

The elf eyed her suspiciously. “A Grey Warden? You invoke the name of a group that no longer exists and expect me to believe it?”

Leliana spoke. “The keeper of the clan decides the fate of supplicants, does he not?”

The elven woman turned to her. “And how do you know the ways of the Dalish, shemlen?”

Leliana bowed low. “The tales of Dalish are known to few humans, it is true. But I have listened to the elves that sing of Arlathan. I know the teachings of Andruil, the Vir Tanadhal.” Leliana turned to show the elf the bow she carried. “Vir Assan, Vir Bor’Assan, Vir Adahlen.”

The elven woman’s eyes widened, but she did not look convinced. “You know some of our words, but that means little. Show me.” She aimed her arrow to the sky and released it. Without hesitation, Leliana notched her bow and shot it, knocking the elf’s arrow off its course.

The elf walked towards Leliana. “You know the way of the arrow and the way of the bow. This does not mean you know the way of the wood.” She looked around at the rest of them. “I will take you to our keeper. But be warned, our arrows are trained on you. Follow me.”

As they walked, Leliana looked at Elissa and smiled. “Praise the Maker I did not miss.”

Elissa returned her smile. “And if you had?”

Leliana shrugged. “Who knows? I know very little about the Dalish, save a few words and songs.”

Elissa looked confused. “You mean, you were just making stuff up?”

Leliana laughed. “Knowledge is power, and I know many songs and many tales. I just happen to know the legend of their goddess Andruil, the huntress. I thought they would…respond to it. And they did.”

Elissa looked around her. “Well, if you know any tales of humans helping the Dalish out, get them ready. We may need them.”

Leliana looked serious. “Humans have done nothing but persecute the elves for centuries. There are no stories that will help us. It will take more than words to convince them, I think.”

Elissa sighed. “It always does.”

<<>>

The qunari looked around him at the Dalish camp. He saw the large wagons that doubled as houses for the elves, homes they could carry with them as they traveled. He say a small herd of halla in the distance, a shepherd cautiously guarding them.

The qunari noted the small stature of the elves, their lithe limbs muscled and tanned from hard work and hunting. He noted their tattoos, each unique to the individual but similar in their overall design. He saw that the markings corresponded to patterns on the statues throughout the camp.

The elves were all busy. Hunters sharped their spears and practiced with their bows, the young watching the elders attentively, their small hands mimicking the movements of their teachers. Woman tended the flocks and picked berries. A smith was working strange wood into weapons, admonishing his apprentice for sloppy work. The old and young sat around fires, telling stories of their history.

The qunari was impressed. Each elf knew their place. Each had a task. The wise kept the wisdom and the strong hunted. They were a clan.

The qunari understood this.

How such people could lose lost their homeland to humans was a mystery to him.

<<>>

“Mythria, I have precious little patience for outsiders today. Why have you brought these strangers here?”

The Keeper was taller than most elves. He had no hair, with the exception of his sharp eyebrows, and his eyes were pale grey. His facial tattoos were intricate, winding about his eyes in thin lines that looped and curved around his cheeks and forehead. Morrigan felt power in him, very old and very strong. She was wary.

The female elf spoke up. “This one claims to be a Grey Warden and wished to speak with you, Keeper. One of her companions demonstrated Vir Assan and Vir Bor’Assan. I thought you would want to speak with them.”

“A wise choice, Mythria. Greetings, strangers. I am the clan’s keeper, Zathrian, guide and preserver of its ancient lore. And you are?”

“Aneth ara, keeper Zathrian,” spoke Leliana, bowing her head.

“Manners? From a shemlen? I am impressed. Andaran atish’an, human huntress.”

Elissa spoke up. “I am Elissandre Cousland and this Alistair. We are both Grey Wardens. Our companions are Roland of Highever, Leliana of…Lothering, Morrigan of the Kokori Wilds, and Sten of the Beresaad. The dwarves are traders, traveling with us in the hopes of trading goods with your clan, nothing more.”

Zathrian looked at each of them. He looked down at Tellux, his face openly betraying his scorn. “And you would bring another beast among us. He is not welcome.”

Elissa raised her eyebrows. “This mabari is my faithful companion. He will not harm any of your clan, Keeper. I will pledge my life that he is not threat.”

The keeper looked at Tellux with disgust. “Very well. If you are here to tell of us the Blight in the south, we are already aware. My clan would be heading north now if we had the ability to move. Unfortunately, we do not.”

“Hmpf. We seek the aid of those who would run from the Blight. This is pointless.” Sten mumbled.

Elissa took a deep breath. “What my qunari companion means is that we came here to seek your aid. The Dalish are sworn to assist the Grey Wardens in a Blight.”

“Ah yes, the treaties we signed centuries ago. I thought your group would seek us out. However, we may not be able to live up to that promise. We have…difficulties.”

“All have difficulties. This is why we must work together.”

Zathrian looked at her shrewdly. “You say you are Elissandre Cousland. Your family’s legends are known to me. Bann Haelia Cousland drove werewolves from the lands in the north during the Black Age. Is it not so?”

Elissa raised her eyebrows. “I am surprised the Dalish know Cousland history.”

Zathrian smiled. “Many do not. I, however, know many legends. It may be that your arrival is sign from the Gods.” He mused for a moment. “Our people cannot aid you until we deal with a…problem.” He looked at her closely, as if deciding something. “Please Grey Warden, follow me.”

They followed as he led them to the western edge of the camp. Several large tents were erected there. When they entered one, Elissa covered her nose. Several elves were lying on low cots. She walked towards one of them. The elf’s skin was pale and she could see his veins through his skin. His eyes had a yellowish gleam and he smelled of corruption. Tellux whimpered when Elissa reached down and placed her hand on the elf’s forehead. He was surprisingly cold to the touch.

“Your people have a plague, Zathrian? We are not healers.”

Zathrian’s face was grim. “This is no ordinary sickness, warden. Our people have been attacked by werewolves. Their bodies waste away as they try to fight the lycanthropic sickness.”

Alistair spoke up. “Wait…let me get this straight. You expect us to believe that werewolves are attacking your people?”

“The Brecilian Forest is old and wild. There are many dangers here. Our people are skilled at dealing with those dangers. We have known of the werewolves for generations. Usually, they leave us alone and we do not enter into their territory. However, when we arrived a few weeks ago, they ambushed us. We camped here and have attempted to find a way out. However, our hunters have been attacked repeatedly by their kind. Many of them lie here, dying as we wait. They will not let us leave. We are trapped.”

“You cannot heal them?”

“Although my magic is old and the clan has great healing strength, we cannot stop the curse from taking them. We will soon be forced to slay them, before they turn into beasts themselves.”

Elissa looked down at the sick elf. His face was grim and he clenched his teeth. His body shook with the strain of trying to fight the blood within him. She touched her warden pendant and shivered.

“You say they ambushed you? Why?”

“They are mindless beasts. They need no reason other than their natural savagery.”

Morrigan spoke “It would seem that these beasts are not so very mindless if they were able to attack you so efficiently.”

Zathrian narrowed his eyes. “That is true. It suggests a level of intelligence that was unexpected. However, that is irrelevant. The only way we can cure them is to find the source of the curse itself. But we have no hunters to spare.”

“What is the source of the curse?” Elissa could not stop looking at the shivering elf.

“There is white wolf that lives deep in the heart of the forest. The curse originated with her. If she is slain, I could use her heart to create an antidote. Without it, our people will die and we cannot aid you.”

Elissa bowed her head. “I will speak with my companions, Zathrian. May we have leave to set up camp amongst your clan?”

*****

Zathrian led them to a small field, just to the west of the main camp. Elissa waited until he left, then crossed her arms, looking at the others. “I want your opinions. Leliana?”

Leliana thought for a moment. “Their suffering…it is unbearable to see. We should help them if we can.”

Elissa nodded. “Sten?”

“This is pointless. We should be hunting darkspawn, not werewolves. These people are too weak to help themselves. Their history is proof of their uselessness in battle. We should leave.”

“Roland?”

He shrugged. “I have no problem helping them, if that is what you choose to do. But I don’t know if it is worth the time it will take to do it.”

“Alistair?”

“I don’t like the sound of these werewolves. We could waste days in the forest and might ultimately be too late to help them. But…the curse. Leliana is right. Their suffering is terrible. I think it is the right thing to help them if we can.”

“You are a Grey Warden Alistair. Grey Wardens do whatever is necessary to end the Blight. I am not asking you if we should do the right thing. I am asking you if this is…necessary to end the Blight.”

Alistair looked conflicted. “I…am not sure. The clan is small, even if we are able to help cure them, what would we get? Forty, maybe fifty archers?”

Leliana interrupted. “But they could rally the other clans! If it is might in battle that will sway you, I tell you that they would be important allies. We have no idea how many Dalish there are in Ferelden, but if there are many, we would be fools not to win their support.”

Roland spoke up. “Then why not find other clans and leave this clan to its fate?”

“Because….because it is wrong!” Leliana voice was pleading.

Elissa looked at them. None of them picked up on the most obvious thing. “I need a few minutes to think. Set up camp.” She turned her attention to the dwarves. “Bodhan, you and your boy see to your trading once the camp is set. I want to know what these elves make and if any of it is useful. They may have medicines and we have little of that. Be shrewd and think ahead. I am sure two dwarves could out haggle a few elves, no?” Bodhan smiled at the compliment.

“Leliana, you and Sten talk with the folk around the camp. I want to know what they think of this plague. Find out about these other clans. Try to get numbers. Also, ask about Zathrian but do it subtly. I want more information before we decide anything.” Leliana smiled and Sten looked annoyed. “Is it not your role to be the eyes and ears of your people, Sten?” He furrowed his brow and nodded once. “Then keep your eyes open and let me know what you see here. I want an…unclouded assessment.” Sten nodded once.

“Roland and Alistair. Check out the equipment they carry. If it is better than what we have, or more useful in the forest, then we should acquire some. Also…see how useful these Dalish are in battle. I don’t want to waste our time if all they do is sit around and tell stories.”

“Should we challenge them to fight?” Alistair smirked.

Elissa sighed. “Don’t go pissing off the clan. Just…get the hunters to brag a bit about their skills. See what they have to offer. Find those who have actually fought the werewolves. I want to know what works and what doesn’t. Use your charm to get them to talk.”

Alistair shrugged. “I can do that. What about Roland? I think he left his charm in the North.”

“Roland doesn’t need charm. He has brains.”

Roland smiled and clapped Alistair in the shoulder. “You walked into that one, Alistair.”

Elissa turned to Morrigan. “Will you walk with me?”

The witch raised her eyebrows, but followed. When they were out of earshot of the others, Elissa turned to her. “They do not see it. I have a feeling you do.”

Morrigan was surprised. More and more she was realizing this woman was no fool. “I do. The keeper is old and powerful. I could sense the years in him. He is also hiding something.”

“Yes. And he is not the only one. What do you know?”

Morrigan smiled. “I met this white wolf in our camp. She is as powerful Zathrian, and also old. She sensed what I was and retreated. But she is no mindless beast. I think…no, I am sure that she wished us to follow her.”

Elissa studied the witch. “Zathrian wants us to slay these creatures. Yet they are cunning, as you pointed out. He uses the suffering of his hunters to sway our decision.”

“Are you not swayed by pity?”

“I am not heartless. But I am also not a fool. What do you think we should do Morrigan? You are not ruled by your emotions. That is why I ask your advice in this.”

Morrigan bowed her head slightly to acknowledge the compliment. “I think we should seek out this white wolf. I believe there is more going on than Zathrian says. If the werewolves are indeed able to be reasoned with, as I expect, then it could be that their alliance may benefit you far more than that of the elves.”

Elissa sighed. She bent down to Tellux and stroked his fur. “The others won’t like it. My father once told me that a good leader knows how to protect his men from an enemy, but that a great leader knows how to protect his men from themselves.” She stood. “We will seek out this white wolf. I want the whole story. But no matter what I decide, I want to leave here with an army that will fight for us.”

<<>>

Roland caught up with Alistair. He had been speaking with some of the craftsmen in the camp while Alistair sat with the hunters. He approached silently and listened as Alistair talked with them.

“So, arrows pierce the werewolves. Why not just…hide and ambush them? You know…like you did with us?"

“Because shemlen, they are creatures of the forest, as we are. They know how to move quietly amongst the trees. They would smell us.”

“How do they fight, then? Like…dogs?”

“They stand on two legs, but can run on all four at great speed. They have long claws and sharp teeth. If they bite you, they pass the curse to you.”

“So you can’t outrun them and you can’t hide from them. Why not make them come to you and take them out with your arrows then? You know, like an ambush?”

“Because most our hunters have already been infected. They came upon us unexpectedly the first time and took out most of the hunters. Now we are trapped here with mostly women and children. We cannot leave to get word to the other clans for aid.”

Roland spoke up. “These creatures…they targeted the hunters?”

The elf looked surprised. “I…am not sure. Zathrian says they are mindless beasts, but it…it did seem like they went for the hunters.”

“Zathrian says a lot of things.” One of the hunters spoke up. He was the quiet one of the group, and had been listening to the conversation with a scowl on his face.

“Oh?"

The other elves attempted to quiet him, but the elf stood. “I am Athras. My wife, Danyla, fought beside me during the first attack. She was wounded and Zathrian told me she died. But I was not allowed to see her body.”

“You think she has turned?” Roland was blunt.

The elf looked angry. “Zathrian refused to let me go into the woods with the other hunters when we attempted to fight back. Now he lets no one leave. I would know if Danyla was truly dead. She is bonded to me. I believe she lives and the keeper lies.”

One of the other elves placed a hand on his shoulder. “It does no good to speak this way, Athras.”

The elf shrugged from the others grasp. “Your wife lives, Ellion. For now. We are hunters of the Dalish, and yet we must sit here because our keeper does not allow us to fight. He sends shemlen to fight for us. It is not the Dalish way.”

“And what would you do if you found your wife and she was a werewolf?” Roland asked.

Athras stood proudly, rolling his shoulders. He pulled his bow from his back and shot several arrows in the air, in rapid succession. His hands were a blur. The arrows rose in the sky and then came down in a circle around Roland. “Every Dalish child can do that, shemlen. My kin and I are one with our weapons. They are our survival. We do not ask shemlen to fight for us. We do not need them to. If our keeper has asked for your aid, then there is something in the forest he does not want us to find.” The archer stalked away, angrily.

Alistair held up his hands. “Well, I think we have gotten all we need here. Come Roland, let’s go back to our camp.”

Roland pulled an arrow from the ground. As they walked, Alistair let out his breath. “I thought the point was to get information, not get arrows shot at us.”

Roland smiled. “Do you know how difficult it is to shoot arrows with that kind of accuracy? A near vertical shot, and these arrows went exactly where he wanted them to. Imagine what forty or fifty Dalish archers could do atop a castle wall. Look at this arrow.”

Alistair examined the shaft. “I’ve never seen wood like this before. It is light and durable. And smooth. It is almost like…very thin steel.”

“Yes. They call it ironbark. Very rare, very strong, and very difficult to shape. Some of them carry axes and daggers made from it. Even the blades, Alistair. Amazing stuff.”

“I prefer steel.”

“As do I. But imagine how much quicker Elissa could swing her daggers if they were made from this. How much further Leliana’s arrows could fly.”

“I see your point. Should we visit their smith?”

Roland smiled. He pulled a set of throwing knives from his pack. “I already have.”

<<>>

Elissa threw the blades in rapid succession. They stuck firmly in the tree trunk. She smiled. “These are amazing. They are so light! It takes hardly any force to throw them. Perfect if your arms are bound and you have only your wrists.” She yanked them from the tree. “Good work Roland. I will send Bodahn to see if he can trade for some arrows and possibly some more blades.” She sat down and removed her jerkin, digging around in her pack until she found a few small pieces of leather. “I’ll need to make a few alterations, but I want these throwing knives handy.”

Roland smiled. “You do realize you could fight with longer weapons if they were made from this. Extend your reach by a few inches anyway.”

“Are you making fun of me for being short?” Elissa laughed. “You northern men. All taller than everyone else and convinced it gives you the advantage.” Her fingers worked on her jerkin, unsnapping the studs to work the leather pieces into holders for her new blades. “What you don’t realize is that my short arms and small swords force the enemy closer as they try to disarm me. It unbalances them. And once they are close,” she snapped the one of the studs in place, “…I end them.”

Roland crossed his arms. “I don’t like the enemies getting that close to you.”

Elissa looked up at him and raised her eyebrows. She smiled. “Then keep them away from me, Roland.”

Roland looked around the camp. “The hunters think Zathrian is lying to them.”

Elissa kept her head down, working.

He looked at her. “But you already knew that.”

Elissa smiled as she worked. “Like I said before, Roland. You have brains.”


	14. The White Wolf

The forest was dense, almost suffocating.

Morrigan knew the Wilds. She spent her whole life running through the dense thickets and swamps of the Kokori Wilds. She had no fear of wild creatures. In her own way, she _was_ a wild creature.

But these woods were different. She could feel death all around her. Ancient death, but more potent because it was so brutal. Something horrible had happened in this place. She could taste it, like bile on her tongue. Dark whispers from the past that clung to the tree roots and curled around the hanging vines. Vengeance, betrayal, and death, all hidden in the green.

The others were quiet. Elissa and Tellux walked in front. The hound sniffed the trees, his panting becoming heavier as they moved deeper in the forest. Elissa reached down every few minutes to touch the beast. The Warden could feel it too. Something was waiting for them.  Something was watching them. 

Morrigan felt the air change. Water. She could taste the moisture on her tongue  and could hear the faint sound of a waterfall, hidden somewhere in the depths of the forest. 

_All creatures must drink._ Her shoulders tensed.

Tellux growled, low in his throat. Elissa held up her hand, signaling them to stop. Leliana notched her bow while the men quietly drew their swords. Everyone waited.

Morrigan smelled them first. She felt their anger, bestial and wild. They would attack without question.

A deep growl sounded to her left, she turned and caught the glimpse of yellow eyes before   
a huge werewolf burst from the trees. Before it reached her, one of Leliana’s arrows pierced its neck.

The forest erupted with snarls and howls. The beasts were everywhere.

The ironbark blades flew from Elissa’s hands, piercing one beast after another. Sten roared, running straight into them. He was almost as tall as they, and sliced through them with ease. Roland and Alistair fought, using their shields to force the beasts back.

Morrigan cast her spell, creating confusion among the werewolves. Several fell to the ground, howling in pain.

She saw Elissa hold her hands up. “We do not wish to fight you!” One of the wolves turned and ran towards her. Elissa threw one of the blades and hit the beast between the eyes. “Stop! Hear me!” Another wolf ran towards her snarling. Roland stabbed the beast through the back before it could reach her. “We wish to speak with you!” She looked at one of the wolves who was walking slowly toward her from the edge of the path. “We wish to parlay!” The wolf lunged at her, jaws open. Morrigan saw the beast tackle her to the ground. She pointed her staff towards it but saw it jerk, one of Elissa’s short swords appearing through its back.

A wolf howled in the distance. It was signal to retreat.  The remaining wolves ran away quickly, scattering in all directions. 

Roland sheathed his blade and ran to Elissa’s side. He grabbed the werewolf corpse from atop her and pushed it away, pulling her from the ground. He grabbed her head, tilting it from side to side to look at her neck. “Did it bite you?” His voice was calm, but Morrigan could feel the anger and fear coming off him.

Elissa shook her head, breathing heavily. Roland dropped his hands, Morrigan noticed he was taking deep, even breaths, towering above the short woman and glaring at her.

 _He is trying not to yell at her!_ Morrigan almost laughed.

Elissa put her hands on her hips and looked up at the knight. “Spit it out, Roland.”

Roland’s face was stern. “Are you completely fucking insane? Why would you try to speak with them? You almost got yourself killed.”

Elissa crossed her arms. “I was at attempting to reason with them.”

Roland’s jaw was clenched. He crossed his arms.

She lifted her chin defiantly. “I still attacked when I needed to. It made no difference.”

“And the one that tackled you? Why did you let it get that close?”

“I saw…intelligence in its eyes.”

He continued to glare at her.

She glared back. “You made your point, Roland. Can we move on now?”

He turned and stormed away from her, a disgusted look on his face.

Elissa reached down and pulled the dagger from the beast. She knelt and looked closely at the body. Morrigan walked over to her.

“It understood me. I know it did. It hesitated when I spoke, then lunged anyway.” She stood and sheathed her blade. “If we cannot make them listen to reason, then we kill them. But I intend to keep trying.”

“A wise decision. Though your knight is not convinced.”

Elissa shrugged. “He is just…”

Her words were cut off by a terrible howl. Tellux howled in return. Both sounds were mournful.

Morrigan looked at Elissa. “That sounds like a creature in pain.”

Elissa nodded. “Shall we go see?”

They walked carefully through the trees, following the sound.

“This is a bad idea.” Alistair said.

They came into a small clearing. One of the werewolves sat alone, howling.

Elissa started to walk forward. She looked to Roland, who shook his head. She rolled her eyes and turned to the others. “Leliana, Morrigan. If it lunges or makes any move you don’t like, kill it.” Leliana notched her arrow. “Alistair and Sten, keep your eyes on the periphery. Watch the treeline. It could be a trap. Roland, you come with me. Everyone else stay back.”

Elissa and Roland walked slowly towards the howling beast. It looked up at them, its eyes full of pain.

Elissa raised her hand. “We do not wish to hurt you.”

The wolf howled again. Elissa took another step forward. “Don’t come any closer.” Its voice was gruff, a mixture of snarls and words.

Elissa raised her eyebrows in surprise, glancing quickly at Roland. “So you speak. Why are you attacking us?”

The werewolf was breathing hard. It did not appear to be injured, but it looked like it was in pain. “Tell me first why you have come.”

Elissa was careful. “We were sent by the Dalish keeper. We wish to end these attacks. But I do not wish to harm you if you will listen to reason.”

The werewolf growled. “If the keeper sent you, then you seek the white wolf.”

“Yes. How do you know this?”

“Because he sent us for the same reason. There were five of us, already sick with the curse. He sent us to seek the white wolf and bring her to him. But the curse finally turned us. My clansmen are dead. I killed them before they completely transformed.” Elissa noticed the wolf clutched a pendant in its hand. It was breathing heavily, struggling for control.

“So you are Dalish?” The wolf howled again. Elissa placed a hand on her dagger, ready to kill it.

The werewolf dropped its head. “I am Dalish no longer. The curse is in my blood. It hurts. It makes me want to kill.”

“Did you find the white wolf?”

“Yes…but it is not what you think. She cannot cure us.”

“Will she reason with us?”

“I…am not sure. She is angry. The others guard her. She is in the center of the forest, in an old ruin.”

Elissa was surprised when Roland knelt down and spoke to the beast. “Do you want me to end your suffering?”

The beast looked up at him with haunted yellow eyes. “Yes. Tell my husband, Athras. Tell him what happened here. And that I love him.” The wolf dropped the pendant to the ground. “Please, end it quickly. The pain!” The wolf howled again.

Roland placed his hand on the wolf’s shoulder and Elissa handed him her dagger. “Go to your gods, Dalish hunter,” he said softly. He sliced its throat, guiding the body gently to the ground. He looked up at Elissa. She started to speak and he shook his head, clearly upset. She nodded silently in understanding.  

Morrigan approached. “So they can speak?”

"It appears so.  She was a Dalish hunter, only recently turned. She...she asked for death."  
  
Morrigan looked down at the beast. "So what now?"

Roland wiped the blade in the grass before handing it back to Elissa. He picked up the Dalish pendant and placed it carefully in his satchel. Before Elissa could answer Morrigan, Roland did.

“Let’s find this white wolf. I want that bitch to answer for this.”

<<>>

Alistair didn’t like this.

Three werewolves stood before the ruin, barring their entry. They were enormous. He didn’t realize how big they actually were until they stood upright.

Elissa looked tiny standing in front of them.

Roland stood beside Alistair, his jaw clenched. He was breathing heavily through his nose.

Alistair agreed with him. _This is insane. Why are we talking to these monsters?_

Elissa spoke. “We do not wish to fight. We wish to speak with the white wolf.”

One of the wolves snarled. “You have no place here human. This war is between us and the Dalish.”

“War? What do you mean?”

The wolf snarled again. “You know nothing do you? What did Zathrian tell you?”

“He told me that you attacked his people for no reason and that you will not let them leave these woods.”

Another wolf spoke. “His clan will not leave until the curse reaches all of them!”

“Why do you wish to curse them? Are you trying to swell your numbers?”

“It is for vengeance.”

“What do you mean?”

The werewolves all tilted their heads at once, their ears pricking up. The woods grew silent. The birds stopped singing, the insects stopped buzzing.  It felt like every living thing around them was standing at attention, waiting for something. Alistair felt the hair on his arms stand up.

Morrigan touched Elissa’s arm. “Something comes.”

The wolves fell to their knees.

The white wolf emerged from the ruin. Alistair held his breath. It was no werewolf. It was a huge wolf, completely white. It was strangely beautiful, larger than a normal wolf. There was something intelligent about it, the way it walked slowly toward them, its eyes assessing them with calm.

It stood before Elissa. The woman and the wolf stared at one another, and it seemed to Alistair that they were having some kind of quiet conversation.   
  
Morrigan touched Elissa's arm. "Be wary. Magic is drawing toward us. Something is about to happen."

The air around the wolf shimmered, its shape seeming to flex and bend. The white wolf's body transformed into a tall woman with grey skin. Her body was wrapped in leaves and twigs. Her hair was long and looked like moss and her fingers seemed more like wood than flesh. 

Morrigan spoke, her voice full of awe. "A spirit of the forest!  Flemeth spoke of such creatures, though I thought them mere stories."    
  
The woman spread her arms, her black eyes searching each of them as she spoke.

“I bid you welcome mortals. I am the lady of the forest.” Her voice sounded like an echo from a deep crevasse, fierce and sad all at once. Alistair shivered.

Leliana was shocked. “So…you’re not a wolf?”

“I am no werewolf. I am here to speak to you, if you are indeed on a mission of peace.”

Elissa responded. “We are.”

One of the werewolves stood. “Do not listen! We must attack them now!”

Alistair saw Roland’s arm tense as he gripped the pommel of his sword. He held his breath, moving his hand slowly to his own blade.

The lady patted the werewolf’s shoulder, soothingly. “Hush, Swiftrunner. Would you see more of you brothers and sisters hurt?”

“No, my lady.” He answered, bowing his large head.

“The time has come to set our rage aside.” She turned towards Elissa. “Swiftrunner, like the rest of his kind, struggles with this nature.”

Elissa’s eyebrows furrowed “As do we all, my lady.”

“Truer words were never spoken. I can sense your own troubles, though you hide them well. But few can claim the rage within these creatures. Their very nature is a curse, forced upon them.”

Leliana spoke up. “And yet they would force this curse upon the Dalish?”

“There are things that Zathrian has not told you. It was Zathrian that created the curse that these creatures suffer from. The same curse that his own people suffer from now.”

“If that is true, then why can he not cure them?” Elissa asked.

“Pride. Centuries ago, when the Dalish first came to these lands, a tribe of humans lived on the outskirts of this forest. They tried to drive the Dalish away. Zathrian had a son and daughter. They were hunting in the forest when the humans captured them. The humans tortured and killed the son and raped the daughter, leaving her for dead. But she lived, and returned to her father. When she found she was with child, she killed herself. Zathrian’s rage was terrible, as was his vengeance. He summoned the spirit of the forest and bound its essence to the body of a white wolf. That is how I came to be. I hunted the humans and killed many, savage creature that I was. But others were cursed by my bite, becoming werewolves. Pitiful and mindless. For centuries, their ancestors have existed this way. Until I was able, slowly through the years, to control my bestial nature. I have taught these creatures to control theirs.”

Roland spoke up. “Why do you attack the Dalish now? For revenge?”

“In part. We seek an end to the curse. Zathrian has ignored our pleas for too long. We will not be ignored any longer.”

Elissa shook her head. “Why will he not end the curse? Does he still carry so much hatred?”

“The crimes against Zathrian’s children occurred centuries ago by those who are now long dead. These creatures are innocent of those crimes.”

A voice spoke from behind Alistair. “They are not innocent. They are beasts, just as their ancestors were.” Zathrian approached them from the edge of the forest, his long limbs moving silently down the path towards them. The werewolves growled at his approach. 

Elissa spun towards him. “You! You created these creatures and refuse to end the curse, even though it means the lives of your own people!”

Zathrian smiled. “And what would you do, human? What would you do to those who harmed the ones you love?”

Elissa was silent. Alistair noticed that her hands were balled into fists. She was shaking.

Zathrian crossed his arms. “I sensed this thing in you when you first came into my camp. You burn from within, your anger a smoldering ember. That is why I asked for your help. You will not be denied your vengeance. Would you deny me mine?”

Alistair saw blood dripping from Elissa’s fingers. Her fists were gripped so tightly that her fingernails were digging into her palms. He spoke up. “Stop! You have no right to do this to them. These creatures were not the ones who killed your family, Zathrian. Your retribution cannot go on forever.”

Zathrian turned towards Alistair, his eyes full of anger. “My retribution is eternal, human, as is my pain! They have always been wild savages, all of them. At least in this form, their twisted shapes mirror their monstrous hearts.”

The lady spoke. “Are you certain your pain is the only reason you will not end this curse, Zathrian?" She turned to Elissa. “There is more to this story that Zathrian’s vengeance. When he carried out the spell that bound my spirit to the wolf, he used his own blood to bind us. This is why he endures, why his people think he has rekindled the immortality of their ancient brethren.”

Elissa looked up at Zathrian. “You will die if you end this curse?”

“I did it for my people! For my children! Not to live forever! My life has been marred by this grief for centuries.”

Alistair watched as Elissa’s face cleared. She shook her head. She unclenched her fists and walked towards the elf. Her voice was quiet, but stern. “Are you afraid of death, Keeper?”

Zathrian dropped his head. “I…am not afraid of death. But I am too old to know mercy. All I see are the faces of my children. This hatred in me is like an old gnarled root. It has consumed my soul.”

Elissa closed her eyes. When she opened them, Alistair saw a deep sadness in them. It made his heart ache to see that look on her face. “You have punished them, Zathrian. For centuries, now. And yet it has not quieted this hatred in you.” She leaned closer to Zathrian, lowering her voice. “I fear this, Keeper. This all-consuming hatred that has no end.” She dropped her head for a moment, then looked back into the elf’s eyes. “If that is what you carry, then let it end. Your death will be a release from it. Your sacrifice, a chance for your people to live apart from this shadow.”

Zathrian looked troubled. He turned to the lady. “What of you spirit? You are bound to this curse, as I am. Are you not afraid of death?”

The lady smiled, though it was full of sadness. “You are my maker, Zathrian. You gave me form and consciousness. I have lived, knowing all the joy and pain that is life. Yet of all things, I desire nothing more than an end. Please, put an end to me. Be merciful.”

Zathrian bowed. “You shame me spirit. I am an old elf, alive long past his time.” He looked at Elissa. “Your pain is fresh, human. I have held onto mine for years, until it has taken everything from me. You may have to make a choice one day, a choice between vengeance and forgiveness. What will you choose?”

Elissa was thoughtful for a moment. She looked at Roland. They shared a long look, and to Alistair, it seemed there was a moment of silent agreement between the two Highever warriors. She straightened her shoulders and looked at Zathrian. “My enemies have yet to taste my retribution. Once they do…if it does not satisfy, then I would rather die than feel this hatred forever.”

The elf smiled. “When the time comes, I hope your vengeance does indeed end your suffering, human. Yours and your companion here. But do not count on it.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “I ask that you take my body back to my kin. Say these words to them: Melava inan enansal. Melana ‘nehn enasal ir sa lethalin. They will understand what it means.” Elissa bowed her head in agreement.

Zathrian looked to the lady. “I think it is time. Let us put an end to it.”

The keeper held his hand out to the lady and she gently held his hand. He raised his staff. The leaves drifted upwards from the ground and swirled around the pair. Alistair could feel a crackle in the air, the tingling feeling of magic surrounding them. The werewolves moved toward the lady, placing their large paws on her, bowing their heads in silent prayer.

Zathrian looked up at the sky for a moment, a small smile forming on his lips. Then, he thrust his staff into the ground and a single stream of white light burst from his chest. He fell. The lady fell with him and her body disintegrated in the wind.

Alistair whispered to Leliana. “What did his words mean?”

The bard had tears in her eyes. “Time was once a blessing. And time will again be the joy it once was.”

The leaves began circling in the air, wild, as if a storm were brewing. Werewolves came out of the ruins. Hundreds of them. They fell to the ground in the midst of the leaves. One by one, they transformed into human men, women, and children.

Leliana was crying and smiling. Sten had his head bowed in a silent prayer. Roland watched everything in fascination.

Alistair watched Elissa. She didn’t look at the naked men and women standing around her. She did not seem to notice the wind and the rustling leaves. She looked at the body of the ancient elf, and Alistair saw an aching sadness in her eyes. She knelt beside his body and closed his eyes with her fingertips. She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “May you find peace in death, Zathrian of the Dalish.” She dropped her head and Tellux padded over to her. He sat on his haunches and howled, though Alistair was not sure if the mabari mourned for Zathrian or his mistress.

The men and woman were hugging one another, laughing, crying. Alistair felt his eyes well up with tears just looking that them. He was so happy and he couldn’t explain why he felt as he did. He walked over to Elissa and pulled her from the ground. She smiled a sad smile up at him as she stood. He hugged her, spinning her around in a wide arc. “That was amazing Elissa. You are amazing.”

The men and women surrounded them. Their tear-streaked faces were full of joy and wonder. One of them, who Alistair was pretty sure was Swiftrunner, bowed low to Elissa. “You saved us. I can’t believe it. We are human.”

Elissa smiled. She placed her hand on the man’s shoulder. “Try to be a good one, will you?”

He returned her smile. “I will do my best.”

Roland spoke up. “Where will you all go?”

“Anywhere. Everywhere!” He laughed. “We are human. We are no longer full of anger and fear and hatred.”

Alistair laughed. “Give it time, Swiftrunner. Until then, you…um…may want to get some clothes.”


	15. Songs and Sorrow

Leliana stood alone at the edge of the camp. She listened as the elves sang a song for the passing of their keeper. It was an ancient song, one of the few things the Dalish preserved from their ancient forbears.

Elissa walked over to stand beside her. “Do you know what the words mean?”

Leliana smiled. “Some of them. ‘Uthenera’ means the long or waking sleep. This song was meant to honor the ancient elves whose immortality finally made them weary of this world. They would retire from the world and enter uthenera to dream and die. But these elves have lost their immortality. It is just one of the many things they have lost throughout the long centuries.”

Elissa was silent. “The thought of eternal life sounds terrible to me. Death is a release from pain, from anguish.”

Leliana turned to the Warden. _She is so young!_   “Surely you do not wish to die?”

Elissa smiled. “Not yet. We have to defeat the Blight. And I have other things I need to do. But Zathrian…his endless anger. It chills me to the bone, the thought that suffering can last that long.”

Leliana placed a hand on her shoulder. “Suffering only lasts as long as we let it. The Maker can end our pain, if we listen to him.”

Elissa’s brows furrowed. “The Chantry teaches that the Maker abandoned us, Leliana. He doesn’t care for us. We have only ourselves.”

Leliana smiled. “I used to think the same. But the Maker is all around us. He is watching. I believe that.”

Elissa looked unconvinced. But she said nothing.

They stood together and listened to the song in silence.

<<>>

Alistair was alone by the fire.

Roland had left earlier to find Athras to tell him about his wife. Elissa offered to join him, but Roland insisted that it was his task to do alone. He had been gone several hours already.

Sten and Tellux had left soon after to roam in the forest for a time, though Alistair wasn’t sure what they were doing. The qunari mumbled something about proper training, but Alistair didn’t pay much attention. Morrigan was also somewhere in the forest, accompanying some Dalish hunters to a cave they claimed contained an ancient artifact. Elissa had eyed her suspiciously when she claimed she preferred to seek it out alone, but said nothing. Both dwarves were still in the Dalish camp. It seemed that the boy, Sandal, had some skills that they were very interested in, although Alistair wasn’t sure what the boy could do beyond clapping.

Alistair looked past the fire and saw Leliana and Elissa standing together at the edge of the camp. He could only make out their silhouettes, Leliana’s tall skinny frame standing next to Elissa’s shorter one. They spoke quietly, and Alistair could not hear them.

He was glad for a few moments to himself. So much had happened over the past few days, and he needed time to process all he had seen. He sat watching the fire as the Dalish music echoed around the valley. He had no idea what the words meant, but the sound filled him with some feeling he couldn’t place. His thoughts drifted to Duncan. He missed Duncan, and all the other Grey Wardens. He tried not to think about it, but he was so unsettled that he assumed it had something to do with them.

But there was something else, something he couldn’t place, something that was missing. He felt some sort of strange longing, though he didn’t know what it was he was longing for.

_Maybe it’s being here, with the Dalish. They are nomads, never at home anywhere. Maybe that is what I am wishing for… a home I’ve never had._

He thought of Duncan again and something danced at the edge of his consciousness. Something Duncan had said to him that was important, that had something to do with his feeling of disquiet.

He looked back up and noticed Leliana was standing by herself. He skimmed the horizon for Elissa and saw her walking swiftly away from the bard, heading into the woods. She fell once, and then stood quickly, almost running, her hands out in front of her as if she were searching for something in the dark.

Alistair had no idea why he stood and ran after her. Something about the way she fell. It seemed so unlike her to lose her footing like that. And the way her hands were splayed out as she ran, as if she were running blindly to escape something. It felt wrong.

He ran to the edge of the treeline and squinted, trying to find her in the fading light. He saw her shadow move quickly through the trees, and he began running towards her.

Duncan’s words drifted into his mind as he ran. _You know what it is to be alone, Alistair. To have your life dictated by events out of your control. Her situation is similar, except that it has all happened at once for her. She could use a friend._

He called her name but she did not answer. His chest was starting to burn as he ran through the trees, deeper into the darkness. He called her name again.

He could still hear the Dalish song, echoing all around him. It felt like it was filling him, like he was going to burst from within. Suddenly, he was no longer running to find Elissa. He was running to get away from that song. His eyes were burning and his throat was closing in. He could feel the sob in his chest and knew it was coming.

He stopped running and stood, trying to catch his breath, trying to control the horrible feeling that was bubbling up inside of him. The sob finally broke from him. He grabbed his chest and tried to hold it back, but it wouldn’t stop. His eyes watered and he stood alone in the darkness, crying for something that he couldn’t find.

He heard someone approaching him, but he was too caught up in that terrible song to stop. He felt hands touch his chest, a voice thick with despair saying his name. Without looking, he reached out and pulled her to him. She wrapped her arms around him and he felt her shaking, her small hands clutching his shirt. He pulled her closer, crushing her to him. He could feel her tears on his neck, her wails muffled in his shirt. He felt like he was breaking into pieces and that the only thing holding him together was the woman in his arms.

The pain in her voice was palpable, but she said no words. He could only hear the sounds of their voices mingled with the elven music, the twin sounds of heartache and longing so heavy that he was afraid they would drown in it.

He had no idea how long they stood there, crumbling into one another as the elves sang for the death of their keeper. Somehow her hands had unclenched his shirt and were on his neck, soothing him as wept against her shoulder. He kissed her hair, brushing it back with his fingers and lifting his face to kiss her forehead and cheeks. Her hands began moving through his hair and he felt her lips first on his jaw, then brushing softly against his eyelids. He didn’t open his eyes. He just felt her there with him, in his arms, the taste of her tears a confirmation that he did not suffer alone.

When their lips connected, it was no fire of passion that ignited between them. It was raw need and incredible sadness that fueled their kisses, their lips quieting each others sobs, their hands brushing away each others tears.

Alistair had never shared anything like this with another person. He felt strong and vulnerable all at once, exposing so much himself and yet giving as much comfort as he received. He kept her body pressed against his, his arm clutched around her small waist. His usual reserve was nothing in the face of what they needed from one another. But he barely noticed the shape of her body. It was her warmth, her trembling frame, her cries that made him hold on to her so tightly.

The song seemed to have no end, nothing to mark the passing of time. Each note seemed to spiral out from those darkened woods to touch the stars above them.

After a while, their sobs abated. Yet they continued to kiss, both becoming aware that their lips were lingering longer and longer on each others.

Alistair’s hand continued moving along her face, but he was starting to actually feel the delicate softness that was her skin, letting the tips of his fingers brush down her face to her neck and relishing the beautiful shape of her features. He let out a small sigh as he touched her, unable to contain his satisfaction that she was allowing him to do so.

Before they could stop or consider what was happening between them, the sound of twigs snapping alerted them that someone was approaching. They quickly let go of one another, but not before Leliana found them. Her eyebrows raised slightly when she saw them pull away from one another, both confused and embarrassed.

Alistair hoped to the Maker it was too dark for the bard to see the red blush that covered his tear-streaked face.

“I am sorry to…interrupt. But I need your help. Both of you.”

Elissa spoke, her voice only barely betraying the fact that she had been crying. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s…Roland. I believe we may need to get him back to camp as soon as possible.”

Elissa voice sounded panicked. “Is he hurt? What happened? Where is he?”

Leliana sighed. “He’s not hurt. Not yet. Just…follow me.”

<<>>

Elissa couldn’t believe what Leliana was saying to her as they approached the Dalish camp. She had known Roland her whole life, and this did not sound like the man she knew.

She heard him before she saw him.

The only thing more shocking than a finding Roland Gilmore blind stinking drunk was finding him blind stinking drunk…and singing.

Athras and the knight were sitting in front of Athras’s hut. Athras was sitting on a log and had a small hand-pipe to his lips, playing a simple melody. The elf was barefoot and he had a large gourd next to his leg, with a wooden stopper dangling from it on a hempen string. Roland was leaned against the same log, his legs splayed out before him and his shirt undone, exposing his bare chest and stomach.

Roland had his eyes closed and was singing as the elf played.

_There once was a maiden_

_She lived in the meadow_

_She sang like the morning_

_And chased away shadows_

_Her eyes held the stars_

_Her heart held the sun_

_Her voice stole my heart_

_And I was undone_

_I walk through the starlight_

_Through whispers of midnight_

_Through shadows of moonlight_

_But she is not there_

_I hear her voice calling_

_Her song like the morning_

_And I keep returning_

_But she is not there_

Leliana was smiling and Alistair was trying to hide a smirk. Elissa realized her mouth was hanging open. Roland Gilmore, Highever’s stoic Captain of the Guard, was singing a love song.

When he finished his verse, he opened his eyes and reached towards the gourd. Athras stopped playing his flute and leaned forward at the same time, resulting in a comical head butt and the spilling of pungent Dalish wine on the ground.

Roland reeled from the hit and fell completely over, giggling like a young boy as he lay prone on the ground. Athras patted him on the arm and looked up, finally realizing they had an audience. He tried to stand, but instead fell backwards, his back on the ground and his legs draped over the log. He was humming to himself, his eyes closed.

Elissa crouched down beside the drunken elf. “Athras, are you alright?”

Athras mumbled “My Danlya, she loved music. Roland said she asked for death. I couldn’t have done it, be he did. He saved her. But now she is gone.” Elissa noticed the tears running down the elf’s face as he began to hum again.

Roland rolled to his side, trying to stand. “Athras…I will sing another for her…”

Athras raised his hand, still lying on the ground. “She heard your song, Roland of Highever. I’m sure our songs reached her in the nightlands, and she can sleep now.” The elf dropped his hand. Within moments, he started snoring.

Elissa wasn’t sure how to handle this. She looked at Alistair, desperate for someone to take charge of the situation. Alistair got the message. “You and Leliana carry Athras into his hut, I’ll deal with Roland.” The two women worked together to get the elf inside, Elissa carrying his arms while Leliana grabbed his feet. She noticed Danlya’s pendant on the elf’s chest.

When they came out, Alistair was crouched down beside the drunken knight, trying to lift him from the ground. “Roland, you need to come back to the camp to sleep it off.”

“I cannot sleep. The dreams. They will be worse tonight.”

Elissa crouched down next to the knight. “Come my friend. We will sit with you until you sleep if you’ll come back with us.”

Roland opened his eyes and looked at Elissa. They were bloodshot and rimmed in red. “I killed his wife. He forgave me with his words, but his eyes said no.”

Elissa touched his arm. “That’s not true Roland. You gave her peace. Athras knows that.”

Roland shook his head. “I see it in your eyes too, you know. You will never forgive me.”

“Shh…don’t say stupid things.” Elissa looked at Alistair. “I’ll help you lift him.”

With no little maneuvering, they were finally able to make Roland stand, both of them draping an arm around their shoulders to walk him to camp. His head drooped and he would occasionally mutter or sing a snippet of his song.

Alistair took most of Roland’s weight as they walked. “I didn’t realize the Dalish made such potent drink. What was in that gourd?”

Leliana was walking beside them. “It is made from honey, I believe. A strong mead. I think they must have been drinking for several hours." She sighed. "Since you both seem to have the knight well in hand, I think I will visit the storyteller, Soras. It will be a night of tales to remember, I think.” She winked, and turned back towards the Dalish camp.

Alistair tried to look at Elissa over Roland’s slumped head. “Does he normally drink like this?”

Elissa adjusted Roland’s heavy arm as she answered. “I’ve never seen him drunk before, at least…not this drunk. He’s been upset, and holding it all in as he always has. I should have been paying attention.”

They finally made it back to camp and got Roland situated in his tent. Alistair handled his boots while Elissa got his shirt off. She noticed a fresh bandage wrapped around his left shoulder. She looked up at Alistair. “When was he injured?”

Alistair shrugged. “I don’t think that happened in the forest.”

Roland murmured something and Elissa put her hand on his head. “Roland, what happened to your arm?”

He opened his eyes. “They are all gone. I left them all to die.”

Elissa bowed her head. She looked back at the drunken knight and brushed his hair out of his eyes. “Think no more of it, Roland. Go to sleep.”

They sat with him for a while, Elissa combing his hair with her fingers as Alistair watched her. She started humming the knight’s song as she stroked his hair, not realizing she was doing it.

Alistair finally spoke. “You care for him a great deal.”

Elissa stopped humming, quickly removing her hand from Roland’s brow. “Yes. He has been my friend for many years. Yet he carries this burden alone.” Roland began snoring softly. Elissa looked up at Alistair. “This is my fault.”

He started to protest, but she held up her hand. “I should have seen how much he was suffering, but I’ve just been thinking about myself. I’ve been selfish, as usual.” She straightened her shoulders. “No more.” She rose quickly and left the tent with Alistair scrambling to follow.

“Elissa…wait…what happened between you and me…”

“I can’t talk about it, Alistair. I have to start being a real leader, and I can’t do that if I’m…distracted.”

Alistair stopped walking. “Distracted?” The hurt in his voice was clear.

She stopped walking as well, standing a few paces ahead with her back still turned from him. The camp was quiet, though that hardly meant they were alone. She found it difficult to speak. She didn’t want to hurt him, not after what they shared.

*****

She had stood with Leliana, listening to the Dalish lament and thinking about what the bard said about the Maker. It struck her that no one had sang a song for her family. She didn’t even know if they had been burned or if Howe had simply left them outside as carrion. It made her angry. How could the Maker be all around them and let such terrible things happen?

She could hear her mother, singing in the garden where she loved to walk in the evenings before dinner. She could hear Oriana, singing to Oren when he was just a babe on her breast. She could hear Guran, singing a rowdy drinking song with the men. She could hear the Dalish song that surrounded them. And all of those songs started to mix together in her mind. The sounds focused to one needle-sharp note, which she realized was a wail that was clawing its way up her chest. She started walking quickly away from the bard, making her way towards the camp, but saw Alistair sitting alone by the fire. The cry was working its way up her throat, so she started running towards the woods. She fell just as tears began to burn her eyes. She jumped up and ran, searching for a darkness to hide in.

She heard him running through the woods, calling her name. But she didn’t want him to see her. She ran from him, finally crouching down to avoid him, her hand covering her mouth to stifle the terrible sounds that tried to work their way out.

Then she heard him, only a few feet from her. The sound of his sobbing mirrored her own. She couldn’t hide any longer. She stood, blindly walking towards him. Her hands touched his shirt and she said his name. Without warning, his arms were cradling her and she let herself go into his embrace.

She hadn’t meant to let him kiss her. But his lips felt so warm and sweet on her skin. It was the first time in her life she had given into her emotions like that. All of that loss felt like it was pouring out of her, melting away into his arms. And when they kissed, it felt like he was refilling her, replacing all that pain with something safe and good.

Her hands continued to run through his hair, but she was becoming aware of the earthy smell of his shirt, the strength of his arm around her waist, the way her body fit so neatly against his chest. Her hands, which were at first soothing, were now combing through his hair slowly, exploring his hairline with her fingertips. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest against hers and let out a small sound of pleasure at the sensation it produced.

She had no idea that a kiss could be that powerful, that a touch could be that comforting. All the years she spent fighting and training did nothing to prepare her for the intensity of that feeling.

*****

 _I have to stop this now_.

She needed to lead them, to set an example, to keep everyone going, not pull them down with her in her own misery. She couldn’t… _need_ anyone. She had to stay strong.

 _A leader must sometimes sacrifice their own happiness to lead_. Her father’s words.

She turned to face him and forced her tone to be nonchalant. “It has been a hard few days and we just got a little carried away. I think we should just forget it happened.”

“I don’t want to forget,” he said softly.

Elissa closed her eyes and dropped her head. _It would be so easy let him hold me again. He would kiss me and maybe it would lead to something more. Would it be so bad?_

Instead, she straightened her shoulders and crossed her arms, forcing her voice to that of command. “Well I do. Do not speak to me about it.”

He flinched at her tone and answered her quietly. “If that’s what you want.”

She nodded once. She cleared her throat. “We need to meet with the new keeper tomorrow and make our final plans. I think we should try to leave here as soon as possible.”

His voice was flat. “Fine.”

“And I want to make sure that Bodahn has done well on supplies. It is a long journey to Redcliffe, so we need to make sure we have all we need.”

He crossed his arms, his voice taking on and edge of annoyance. “Anything else?”

She wanted to tell him she was sorry, try to explain. But she had a feeling she would just end up in his arms again. _End it before it can begin._ She kept her voice level. “I want you to keep an eye Roland. Let me know if you notice anything off.”

He looked at her questioningly. “I thought _you_ were his friend.”

She raised her head slightly, her voice cool. “A good leader has no friends, Alistair.” She turned quickly before he could respond, before he could see the tears that were threatening to fall. She found her tent and collapsed inside, too exhausted to even take off her boots. She somehow managed to fall asleep before a single tear fell.


	16. Assassins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *note* middle section missing here, but you all know what happens ;)

They spent a few more days with Dalish than intended. Zathrian’s official funeral was a somber affair. The elves buried his body and planted a tree over his grave. The thought of dead elves in the ground made Alistair feel strange. Humans burned their dead. Alistair shivered at the thought of spending eternity in the ground.

After the funeral, Alistair and Elissa met with the new keeper and plans were made for rallying the rest of the clans against the Blight. It was agreed they would gather their army and send word for all to meet when final battle plans were made. Alistair was impressed with Elissa’s diplomacy. She made Zathrian sound like a hero when she talked to the Dalish. He would have found that difficult, had it been left up to him.

Alistair walked beside Roland. He noticed the knight rarely spoke, unless asked a direct question. Between Roland and Sten, Alistair felt like anything he said was unwelcome. But Elissa had asked him to befriend the knight. If she wouldn’t let him comfort her, then the least he could do was help her keep morale up. After everything that happened with the werewolves, he thought that would be a good subject to get the knight talking.

As they approached the edge of the forest, he turned to the silent knight. “So, what do you think about how everything turned out?”

Roland shrugged. “It could have been worse.”

Alistair nodded, slightly annoyed that the knight was so reserved in giving a real opinion. “I think the Dalish will be valuable allies. Their hunters are skilled and they seem determined. Even after all they have been through, they want to help. I think they are actually looking forward to showing us _shems_ what they can do.”

Roland nodded once.

Alistair tried again. “Elissa made a good decision.”

Roland didn’t say anything.

Alistair tried another tactic. “I mean, I thought she was completely crazy talking to the werewolves. And so did you, as I recall. Do you think she…suspected…about the curse?”

Roland shrugged. “I think she was just keeping her options open.”

“Her options? What do you mean?”

Roland sighed, obviously not wanting to talk about it. “The werewolves defeated the Dalish. She thought they were better allies.”

Alistair was shocked. “Wait…you think she was trying to…recruit the werewolves? After they attacked innocent hunters?”

“Yes.”

“She would have just let the Dalish hunters die? I don’t believe that. I mean, look at how she handled it! She convinced Zathrian to end the curse.”

Roland looked at him like he was a child. “Yes. Once she realized how unstable the werewolves were.”

Alistair was annoyed. “You seem to have a very low opinion of her.”

Roland stopped and looked at him. “She is thinking like a leader, Alistair. She is trying to gather an army to fight the Blight. Do you think being a leader means being nice?”

“I just…she doesn’t seem like the type of person to be that…callous.” Alistair wondered if Roland knew that Elissa had hummed softly to him as he fell asleep.

Roland narrowed his eyes. “If we continue to travel together, you may see parts of her that are callous, even cruel. What then? Will that lower your opinion of her? Will you decide she is unfit to lead us?”

Alistair wasn’t sure how the conversation got turned around on him. “I don’t think that will happen. I think she will do what is right.”

“You mean what _you_ think is right. If she doesn’t agree, what then? Will you refuse to follow her?”

“I didn’t say that! But if I don’t like what’s happening, I’m going to speak my mind.”

Roland smiled, looking at him almost pityingly. “If you want to be her conscience, by all means, try.”

Alistair was thoughtful for a moment. He supposed the knight knew Elissa better than him. “Do you trust her judgment, Roland?”

Roland shrugged. “I trust that she is capable leader. But if you’re asking me if I always agree with her decisions, the answer is no.” Roland walked silently for a few minutes before turning to Alistair again. “I am a sworn knight of her household. More than that, years of friendship mean I’m loyal to her and her alone. But what about you? You’re the senior Grey Warden. Why do you let her lead?”

Alistair thought about it for a moment. He tried to come up with something witty. But he settled for the truth. “Because she is better at it than me.”

Roland looked at him seriously then laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Well, at least you have some sense.”

<<>>

**[UNFINSIHED section] Attack on the road – assassins – action action action!**

<<>>

Elissa stood over the elf. He was dark, with pale blond hair. His tattoos were black, swirling around his arms and up to his cheeks. He was starting to come to.

“I rather thought I would wake up dead. But I see you have not killed me yet.” His accent marked him as Antivan.

Elissa drew her dagger. “I could easily arrange that, especially if you make any sudden moves. But I want answers first. Who hired you to attack us?”

“And what makes you think I was hired at all? I may just be a poor bandit, hungry for gold in these desperate times.”

Alistair spoke up. “Oh, I don’t know…the whole “The Grey Wardens die” thing sort of gave you away.”

“Ahh yes, I was caught up in the excitement.” The elf smiled. “But one should not point out every flaw in the plans of a bested creature. Very cruel, you know.”

Elissa moved the point of her blade towards him, looking down at him over the thin line of steel. “Talk, assassin.”

“With pleasure, gorgeous lady. My name is Zevran. I am an Antivan Crow, hired to take out any surviving Grey Wardens. Which, I have…sadly failed at, as you see.”

“You did not answer my question. Who hired you?”

“A rather taciturn fellow in the capital by the name of Loghain.”

“Why am I not surprised?” quipped Alistair.

“Seems like he’s getting desperate to hire Antivans for his dirty work.” She looked back down at the elf. “How much did he pay you?” Elissa’s mind was racing. Was Loghain involving Antivan nobles in the coup? That didn’t make sense.

“Nothing. He deals directly with the Crows and Crows sent me. Since I have failed in this service, the Crows will lose their profits and I, sadly, will lose my life. Too bad, really. I imagine women will weep from here to Orlais for my loss.”

“You have an active imagination, I take it?”

“Ouch! Such cruelty from a beautiful woman. I am scandalized…which is saying a lot.”

“So the Crows will want your head now that you have failed? It is tempting to let you live and face that fate. However, there is nothing stopping you from trying to kill us again if I let you go.” Elissa brought the tip of her dagger near the elf’s throat.

“Uh…well, there is the fact that you and your…group…are far more skilled than I was lead to believe. Sadly, beautiful warden, I will not be that foolish again. My chances of success do seem rather thin, no? Especially since you killed my entourage with such swiftness.” He motioned to the dead bodies on the hillside.

“True…but I am sure you will prepare better the next time.”

“I do not think you fully understand the situation. I was given a settled sum to set up this folly. I cannot go back and ask for more, or my life will be forfeit for failing. I am now, unfortunately, just as hunted as you are.”

Roland spoke up. “Sounds like a raw deal. Why be a Crow? Freelancing sounds far less dangerous. Only one enemy at a time.”

“Yes, but I was not given a choice to become a Crow. The Crows bought me young, on the slave market. Though, don’t think I am complaining. The Crows do keep me happy in wine and women. But the severance package is lousy.”

Elissa narrowed her eyes. “Why are you telling me all of this?”

“Why not? I was not paid for silence. And now that the Crows will be hunting me, I might as well tell all and damn the consequences. I failed to kill you, so now I am also a target.”

“I get the feeling you have a proposal then?” Elissa cocked her eyebrow, waiting.

“You are a sharp one. Since the Crows will continue to hunt you to fulfill their debt to Loghain, and since I know their wily ways as well as anyone, I could join you and we could work together to…keep our mutual enemies at bay.”

“You must think I am complete idiot. Do you think I could trust someone with such thin loyalty?”

“I happen to be a very loyal person…up until the point that someone wishes me to die for failing. If that is your way, then, it is true that I am not a very good employee. If, however, you are the honorable person you seem to be, then I think this will be beneficial to both of us.”

Elissa thought for moment. “What can you offer us?”

Alistair spoke up. “Are you serious? You are actually considering taking the assassin with us now?

“Your fellow warden is suspicious, is he not? But I am skilled in many things that may come in useful to you. I have been picking locks and breaking into difficult places since I was a child. I am also light on my feet and quick in a fight, though you have not seen me at my best today, tis true. I am also skilled in the art of seduction and am very good at getting information from lonely women…and men.”

Elissa looked at him for a moment. She sheathed her blade. “Subtlety and stealth may come in handy…”

Alistair was annoyed. “What? You really think this is a good idea?”

Elissa looked at the elf closely. He was smooth…a little too smooth. But there was something about him that made her trust him. She learned about the Crows from Vanithan and knew that they did indeed buy slaves young to train them as assassins. He knew this first hand because he himself worked for them…for time. She wondered how many of her skills were a result of his Crow training. It intrigued her. But more than this, if the Crows were after them, Zevran would be a valuable ally.

“Maybe not. But the way I see it, we are just filling out the group. A bitchy mage, a crazy chantry sister, and a homicidal qunari…what’s an assassin elf in that bunch?”

Alistair did not look pleased. “Still, if there was a sign we were desperate, this is it.”

Roland spoke up. “And do me favor, Elissa…watch your food and drink from now on.”

Zevran smiled. “That is good advice for anyone.”

Elissa reached down and offered Zevran her hand to help him stand. “Bienvenido, Zevran.”

He raised his eyebrows as he stood. “You speak Antivan?”

“My tutor was Antivan. I know many languages, but it is by far my favorite.”

Alistair interrupted them. “Yes, well, let’s get a move on shall we?” He eyed Zevran suspiciously.

Zevran smiled. “Ah, I see. Well then, let us be off.”


	17. Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *note* The tone of the flashback here is meant to be reminiscent of old movies with brutal training sequences (e.g. Kill Bill-esque) but could be upsetting to some.

Alistair was surprised at how well Roland and the assassin got along. As they travelled, the two of them played cards in the evening, trading tales about women and fighting. The knight and the elf shared the first watch in the evenings, and Alistair noticed them passing a small silver flask back and forth as they settled in for guard duty.

Alistair didn’t understand it. Roland made it clear that he was only travelling with them to protect Elissa. Why he would become friends with the elf who tried to kill her didn’t make any sense to Alistair.

He mentioned it to Elissa. She didn’t seem concerned. All she said was, “Roland has a…soft spot for dark souls.” Alistair thought that was the stupidest thing he ever heard.

Sten said little to anyone, except occasionally Elissa. In fact, the only one of the group the qunari spent any real time with was Tellux. The mabari would often sit at Sten’s feet in the evenings. He would growl and make whimpering sounds at the qunari and Alistair was sure he heard Sten mumbling back to the dog a few times.

Leliana was constantly scribbling away in her notebook or humming to herself. Alistair didn’t really care too much for her conversation. She was always going on about Orlesian politics. When she wasn’t talking about that, she wanted to talk about Alistair’s upbringing in the Chantry. Alistair told her some funny stories about the trouble he and other boys got into, but she seemed a little offended by it.

Alistair noticed she would get a faraway look in her eyes at times, and she seemed rather sad. But he had no idea how to ask her about it.

And Morrigan…he would rather drink water from a boot than talk to her.

He noticed Elissa had a sort of ritual in the evenings. After setting up camp and making sure everything was settled, she would usually talk first with Leliana. The two women always spoke in Orlesian, which was annoying because they often giggled and he could only partially understand what they were saying. Then she would speak with Sten while she petted her mabari and checked his paws and ears for…whatever someone checked a mabari’s paws and ears for. Sten only gave her clipped answers, but she persisted, often staring up at the tall qunari with a searching look in her eyes.

Morrigan always kept her own camp separated from the others, but Alistair watched every evening as Elissa walked away to go speak with her. She would usually return shaking her head a little, as if getting to know the witch was more puzzling than enjoyable.

Then she would sit for a while with him, making plans and going over their strategy, usually while they were eating. She was careful to keep their conversation neutral, and avoided sitting too close to him. _Maker forbid we accidently kiss again._

After dinner, she would talk with Zevran and Roland. Elissa and Zevran would speak in Antivan so Roland could improve his limited ability to speak the language. Alistair had nothing to say to the elf and made a point of ignoring him as much as possible. He noticed Elissa smiled often when the three of them sat together. _Great. She hardly makes eye contact with me, yet the assassin and the moody knight make her laugh._

Elissa kept up this routine for the first week of their three and a half week journey to Redcliffe. Alistair didn’t like it. She had let her guard down with him, let him have a glimpse of her pain, that deep longing for all she had lost. And now she walked around the camp each evening as if everything was fine, burying all she felt under a calm that seemed so forced it was almost painful to watch. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t… _her_.

 _She is determined to be a good leader…treating everyone as equals, giving everyone equal time. It is what a good leader should do._ Yet Alistair was annoyed by it. He wanted their time together to be more than just a predetermined timeslot on her schedule. After all they had been through…he felt like they should be more to each other than that.

It was like that for several nights in a row as they made their way to Redcliffe. Everyone mostly kept to themselves and Elissa served as the only bridge between the members of the group.

One evening, as they sat around the campfire together, everything changed. Elissa was sitting next to Zevran and Roland. Alistair noticed Roland’s voice sounded angry. He stopped speaking in Antivan and his voice was loud and clear. “I don’t like this.”

Zervan laughed. “Come my friend, it is an excellent notion. If I hurt the Warden, you can take my head off with your sharp blade, I am sure.”

Roland stood and crossed his arms. “No.”

Elissa stood and crossed hers as well, glaring up at him. “This is not your decision, Roland.”

They glared at each other for a few moments. The camp was quiet, everyone listening to their exchange. Even Morrigan walked over to their camp at the sudden change in mood.

“You expect me to just sit by and let an assassin pull his blades against you?”

“I expect you to be reasonable, Roland. It is training, nothing more.”

“If you want to train, then you can train with me.”

Elissa narrowed her eyes at the knight. Finally, Elissa spoke again, turning to Leliana. “Leliana, have you ever fought a qunari?”

Leliana looked surprised. “No, I have not had that…pleasure…”

She looked at Alistair. “In your training as a templar, did you ever learn to fight with a knife, hand to hand?”

Alistair shrugged. “Only a little. Templars don’t usually battle hand to hand with mages.”

She looked back to Roland. “We need to become a real fighting force. I want to learn to defend against Zevran, against all of you.” She turned again to the group. “And I want you to do the same. No more of this ‘every man for himself’ crap. We will all start learning some new skills. Starting tonight, we will train in pairs, switching off every evening to a different partner. One hour each evening.” They all looked at her in silence. “Bodahn has practice weapons, so I suggest you all visit his wagon and take something to trade for them or work out a borrowing system. Sten and Alistair. Leliana and Roland. Me and Zevran. Morrigan will observe. We’ll switch it up tomorrow.”

They all looked at one another. Elissa crossed her arms. “And when we finish, we will _all_ sit around this damned campfire and discuss how to improve.” She waited. Finally, they started to move.

Alistair stood up and walked towards Sten. The qunari looked down at him. Alistair gulped. “Well Sten, err…ready to fight?”

After that, everyone began talking to everyone in the evenings after they practiced. Sten would actually sit with the group and listen as Zevran showed them how to crush certain herbs and mix them into powders to tip their blades with poison. Morrigan and Leliana had some skill with healing herbs and showed them the proper way to make and apply a healing poultice. Leliana and Elissa were both excellent at archery and throwing knives and they made a sort of game out of it with points, often playing late into the night. Leliana was the better archer, but Elissa could throw knives in her sleep. Alistair and Roland actually started talking more, coming up with ways to better defend against a foe with two weapons using their shield. Even Sten showed them techniques with a one handed weapon that were far superior to what they already knew.

Everything was training, whether by talking or doing or watching. They scratched ambush plans in the dirt, everyone learning from Zervan and Roland’s strategic abilities. Alistair and Leliana came up with hand signals and code words for them to use in different situations. Sten taught them several qunari words and phrases to improve the system, making it more difficult for outsiders to understand them.

Elissa, Morrigan and Zevran, all highly skilled in sewing, crafts, and trap-making, worked on improving their equipment. Zevran came up with a quick-release mechanism that allowed the knights to carry their shields on their backs. Elissa crafted hidden pockets into their armor while Morrigan added removable straps with bone-carved attachments to redistribute the weight of their packs.

One evening, they all sat and watched as Elissa and Zevran danced around with their blades. It was fascinating to watch their four weapons fly through the air. Although Elissa was quicker, Zevran was a master at exploiting weaknesses. When he dodged her downward strike by twisting and slamming his pommel into her ribs, Alistair had to place his hand on Roland’s shoulder to keep the knight calm. Elissa stayed crouched on her knees for a moment before looking up at Zevran. She smiled “You _will_ teach me that move. But first… I hope you know to make a decent healing poultice, because I think my rib is broken.”

The elf smiled and looked at Leliana. “Perhaps you should assist, lovely bard, to assure I do it correctly.”

Roland and Alistair’s exhibitions were also favorite for the group to watch, as they were so evenly matched. Elissa would walk around them, pointing out their techniques for those in the group that had not trained as knights. Oddly enough, the more the two men practiced, the friendlier they became with one another. Roland even passed his flask to Alistair now and again, although Alistair could barely choke down the vile liquid.

Morrigan was the most difficult to train with, as no one could ever get to her. Her spells would send them walking off in another direction, blind them with light, or even surround them in fire. Alistair’s templar training was the only thing that worked. When he walked right up to her and put his blade under her neck, the look on her face was priceless. Of course, she immediately bashed him over the head with her staff. The lump on his head was there for a few days, but it did inspire the mage to practice some defensive moves that did not involve magic.

Leliana was improving in her hand to hand combat by leaps and bounds, learning to use her lithe limbs to get out of holds. Roland was actually getting rather good at throwing the small dagger he now wore in his boot. Sten also learned to throw knives rather well, but he scoffed at the idea of a qunari using a shield.

Alistair noticed that Elissa stopped doing her little rounds to the group. She seemed more natural, more…present. She didn’t seem so concerned about where she sat in the evenings and talked to whoever she felt like talking to.

And Alistair had to smile, because more often than not, it was him.

<<>>

Alistair was sharpening his blade.

Elissa had been watching closely as he and Roland sparred. She was surprised at how evenly matched they were. Roland was one of the best knights at Highever. He was more diligent about his training than any knight she had ever met. But Alistair was extremely skilled. His face, which was normally so easy to read, was a mask when he fought. She wondered what his training had been like.

She approached him. “Alistair…you learned to fight in the Chantry?”

He smiled. “Well, the sisters didn’t teach me more than how to evade their switches. But, in a manner of speaking…yes. The templars in the Chantry trained me. I’ve been practicing with swords since I could stand, but they taught me discipline.”

She sat down next to him, motioning to him to hand her one of his cloths so she could attend to her own weapons while they talked. “I have never seen a templar fight before you. Your movements are so...calm…but effective. What was the training like?”

Alistair looked uncomfortable. “Well…I’m not supposed to really talk about it. It’s one of the reasons you don’t see a lot of ex-templars running around. The Chantry doesn’t like their secrets getting out.”

Elissa was annoyed. “I don’t mean all the sacred praying to candles and symbols of Andraste, Alistair. I mean…how does is it different than that of a normal knight?”

Alistair looked offended. “It’s…it’s not that. Look, the main duty of the templars is to control mages, so we have to learn fight magic as well as men. We train in talents that drain mana and disrupt spells. It is incorporated into everything we do. To dispel magic, you have to remain utterly and completely focused. You cannot be distracted by anything. We are taught to harness our defenses in every offensive move, to protect our minds as well as our bodies. It is hard to explain.”

“But how you can drain mana? Isn’t that …basically magic?”

Alistair sighed. “I hope I don’t live to regret this. Templars are…well…we are given lyrium to develop our magical talents. It works, but we eventually become addicted. It’s…sickening.”

“Are you addicted?”

“No! Duncan got me out of there before that started. You don’t really need lyrium to defend against magic, only willpower and training. The lyrium supposedly makes the training more effective, but who knows if that’s even true.”

“So why do they…oh, I see…”

“Starting to see the big picture, eh? The Chantry controls the lyrium trade and their templar army is completely addicted to the stuff. Why do you think I hated it so much? I didn’t mind the training, or the education. I rather enjoyed that part. But seeing the older templars, lyrium-addled and drooling. It was not the life I wanted, let me tell you.”

“So can you teach others to be a templar?”

“Well…yes. But they have to be trained as a warrior first. You have to have the discipline instilled before you start learning the other stuff. Why? Do you think you need it? I mean, not to bolster your already overlarge ego, but you seem to be doing just fine without it. In fact, there is probably a great deal you could be teaching all of us.”

Elissa smiled. “My training was…unique. I don’t think it would work for any of you.”

“Well, that hardly seems fair. You expect me to give up Chantry secrets and yet you don’t want to teach me how to take down an ogre in under five minutes? Very unladylike.”

Elissa smiled. She thought for a moment. “It’s not that I don’t want to teach, but…my training was very painful. It took over ten years of training that was…unconventional. I started training when I was six years old. It requires...relearning how you perceive the world around you. It was necessary for me, given my…issues.”

“You mean the whole blood…heartbeat…darkness thing?”

Elissa rolled her eyes. “I have never been very good at explaining it. Not even to my teacher, who thankfully understood it better than me. But yes. He taught me to keep it under control but also how to…dance around the edges of it to expand my senses. To stop fear and rely on perception. It was…not easy.”

“Can you tell me about it? What was your teacher like?”

Elissa looked at her hands. “He was…he was Antivan. He was cruel and firm, but smart. He saved me, really.”

“How?”

She looked up at him. “He taught me to see.”

<<>>

Vanithan sat on a stool before her.

Elissa sat on a smaller stool, looking up at him.

“What do you see child?”

“I see you.”

“And who am I?"

“You are my new teacher.”

“Is that all I am? Describe what you see.”

Elissa was puzzled. She chewed her bottom lip and looked at him closely. “You are old and tall. You have silver hair and blue eyes. Your boots are tall and made of leather.”

“Is that all you see?”

“No. You have a long cloak and it is red. You are Antivan. Your name is Vanithan.”

“Ahh…but you did not see my name. I asked you to tell me what you see, not what you know. If you looked at a lake and it was blue and still, would that tell you the name of the lake? If there were fish in it? If the lake was deep? If it was safe to swim in it?”

Elissa was puzzled. “But I know your name.”

“Yes, but you do not _see_ my name. You must learn to see everything first, in one glance. You missed everything of importance because you are relying on what you know, not what you see. If your father had not told you my name, or that I am Antivan, how would you know these things?”

Elissa didn’t know how to answer.

Vanithan stood. “A simpler question then. How do you know I am old? How do you know I am tall?”

“You have wrinkles and silver hair, like old men do. You are taller than the knights I know and taller than my father.”

“Ahh…so you think that seeing means comparing what you see to what you know. Again, you are not seeing. What if I was a creature you had never seen before? How would you know if I was tall or old if I had no hair at all, if my skin was blue, if I had tentacles instead of arms?”

Elissa was annoyed. “But I have to know something to understand what I see. I could count the creature’s tentacles. I could see if he had two eyes or three.”

“Yes. But would that tell you what the creature is? Would counting its eyes tell you what it had seen? Would counting its tentacles tell you where it came from?”

Elissa thought about it. “No. But my eyes are connected to my mind. I can’t help but think about what I see.”

Vanithan leaned closer to the girl. “Of course! One must always think. That is the point of seeing. But you must see first and think after. It happens quickly, yes!” He snapped his fingers in front of her face. “But you _must_ see first. You cannot cloud your mind with your thoughts. You must see, taste, smell, and listen. Then! Only then, can you give your mind the tools it needs to reason.” He began pacing around the room. “What about when the darkness takes you? Do you know what you see then?”

Elissa thought about it. “I…don’t remember.”

Vanithan came closer. “I want you to make the darkness come.”

Elissa was afraid. “I…don’t think I can. It scares me.”

Vanithan slapped her hard across the face. Her vision was clouded for a moment by flickers of light. Her face throbbed from the slap. She felt tears well up in her eyes but she struggled to keep them from falling.

Fergus told her never to cry in front of an enemy. And Vanithan had hit her. He was her enemy. She looked at him in silence.

“What do you see now?”

Elissa stayed silent. She would not answer him. He hurt her. He was bad.

“Do not pass judgments child! I, unlike you, can see. I see your anger, in the set of your shoulders and tension in your brow. How do you know what I am if you do not see me?”

He slapped her again, harder.

Elissa felt blood coming from her lip. She didn’t understand why the Antivan was hitting her. She wanted to call for her father, but knew she wasn’t supposed to. Her father told her to obey Vanithan, no matter what. So she sat in silence.

“I asked you what you see, child.”

“I see an enemy.”

“Good.” He pulled her from the stool and threw her to the ground. He towered over her. She was frightened. “What else do you see?”

Elissa heart started pounding. She knew the blood was coming. “I see an enemy I must defeat.”

Vanithan kicked her in the stomach. She rolled over. The pain was deep and made her want to the throw up. “I did not ask you what you should do! Actions must come after reason, and reason can only come after sight. I asked you what you see! What do you see?”

The blood was pumping louder in her ears. She could feel her hands starting to shake. She rolled over to look up at him. “I see…”

Vanithan towered above her. He had kicked her with his left boot. His right leg was oddly straight, like it hurt him to stand on it. She looked at his face. His right eye was smaller than the left. It was somewhat darker than the other. She noticed his right hand was also slightly smaller. “I see your weaknesses.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh? Tell me what they are.”

“You are left handed, and your right leg is lame.”

“You see true. What else do you see?”

She could barely hear him. The blood was filling her. “I see…I see…death.” Her voice came from deep in her chest. She felt the darkness filling her.

He bent down and grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him. “No! Do not sink into the darkness yet, child. You must stay on the periphery! That is where you will see the most. Just on the edge of the abyss! Use your eyes! Stay in the moment! What do you see?”

Her breath was ragged. She tried to keep the darkness from filling her. She focused on the throbbing pain in her stomach. Her words rushed out. “You are missing the tip of your left index finger. Your chin has more stubble on one side than the other. You cannot see as well from your right eye as your left, so you shave crooked. Your nose has a small scar on it and it is bent. It has been broken before.”

“Good. You have seen important things. You said I was your enemy. Tell me how you would defeat me. How would you use what you see to keep me from hurting you again?”

“I… I would try to break your nose. I would try to take out your weak leg somehow.”

“Weaknesses are good to see. But what of my strengths? An enemy has both and you must see both. What are those?” The Antivan tightened his grip.

“Your left eye is sharp and clear. You have good hearing. You moved your head slightly when the guards came down the hall earlier. You heard them before I did. I can’t sneak up on you unless…there are other sounds to distract you. Your hands are strong and you are quick. I…would have to evade your grasp.”

He stood up, releasing her. “None of these things matter. You could not defeat me, regardless of what you see. You are a weak child.” He reached his hand to her. She didn’t want to take it, so she stood on her own. Vanithan waited until she stood before him. “The darkness comes when you feel threatened, when you are angry. Why?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Yes you do.”

She thought about it. She felt the deep pain in her stomach where he had kicked. “I don’t feel pain in the darkness.”

“What do you feel when it is upon you?”

She closed her eyes. She missed the sound of the heartbeat. If she had let it take her, she could have ripped his eyes out. She could have killed him for hurting her. But her father would be angry. She didn’t want Vanithan to hurt her again. She didn’t want to tell him about the darkness. She wanted him to leave her alone.

“I feel…nothing.”

He slapped her again, so hard that she fell. Her head hit the floor and she heard the dull sound that it made as it hit the stone. The pulse quickened in her and the blackness filled her immediately.

It blocked out all pain. It blocked out all fear.

It tasted of death.

*****

When she came back, she was on her back. The Antivan was straddling her and holding her arms away from him. His face was covered in scratches. He was bleeding.

“Are you back child?”

Elissa could feel the pain in her fingers. Her whole body hurt. She wanted to cry. Her father would be sad when he found out. He always looked so sad after she came back from the darkness. And her mother always looked afraid. “I am sorry, Master Vanithan.”

He looked surprised. “Why are you sorry?”

“I…scratched your face. I was bad.”

“I will let you up now.” He rose and she slowly stood, shaking and sick. She saw that her small stool was broken. She looked at her hands and saw the splinters in her palms. Her fingernails were caked with blood. She looked at Vanithan. He walked away, limping slightly, to sit in the unbroken chair. His face was covered in scratches. He had blood dried under one nostril. “I want you to tell me what you see.”

Elissa was determined not to cry. She told him what she saw. “Your weak leg has been injured. Your left eye was almost taken out by scratches. Your nose is bleeding.”

“And what does this tell you?”

“That I attacked you. That when the darkness came, I attacked you just like I said I would. I took out your weak leg with the stool than tried to take out your good eye with my fingernails. I…hit your nose.”

“Yes. And what does this tell you about the darkness in you?”

Elissa was confused. “That it is evil.”

“Is it evil to attack your enemies? To defend yourself against one who threatens you? You wanted to attack me from the first time I slapped you, but did not until the darkness took you. Why?”

“I…knew I could not beat you.”

“But when the darkness took you, you had no fear. More than this, you were not completely out of control. You remembered all that you saw before it took you. You remembered all that you had reasoned. You knew both my weaknesses and my strengths. What does this tell you?”

“That…the darkness is part of my mind?”

“Good! Yes, it is. But why did you let it take you?”

Elissa was afraid he would tell her father, but she was more afraid he would hurt her again if she lied. She told him the truth. “Because I wanted to hurt you.”

“Ahh…and now we come to it. Why could you not hurt me without it?”

“Because…I was afraid. Because you are stronger than me. Because I don’t know how to fight without it.”

“But you do! You told me exactly how you would do it, before the darkness took you.”

“But…I can’t move as fast as I want. I am a girl, and little.”

Vanithan stood. “Was it not you who gave me these wounds? Clearly you can, but you rely on the darkness to do what you fear you cannot. So…” He began pacing, his hands behind his back. “What does this tell you?”

“That…I need the darkness to fight.”

“No child. Think before you answer.”

She chewed her lip again. After a while she said, “It means that if I knew how to fight, I would not need the darkness anymore.”

“Ahhh. Clever child.” He stood looking at her. “We have both battled enough today. Let us tend to our wounds. We will begin training as soon as I speak with your father.”

“Will you hit me again?” She was worried. She didn’t like being hit.

The Antivan crouched down, his face coming near hers. “Why am I here child? Think before you speak.”

“You are here to…help me. To teach me.”

“And who are you?”

“I am Elissandre Cousland.”

“Is that all?”

She thought for a moment. “I am a girl. I am noble. I am Ferelden.”

Vanithan smiled. “You do not know who you are, only the words that you have learned. You do not see yourself. I will teach you what you are. No one truly knows themselves until they are forced to look. Ver a ti mismo. Conócete a ti mismo. This is why you must learn to see.”

Elissa looked at him. “I don’t understand.”

Vanithan crossed his arms. “If I gave you an object and told you it was food, how would you know I was telling the truth?”

“I would bite it.”

“And if it were a rock it would break your teeth! If it were poison, you would die!”

Elissa thought about it. “I would cut it open and look inside. I would sniff it. Test it.”

“Yes! And that is what I will do with you. If you are warrior, you will defend yourself when I hit you. If you are a coward, you will sit and stare and feel nothing. You must relearn how you see the world, child. You must know yourself. This is painful, but necessary. It is beyond books, beyond words. Can you be strong, child?”

Elissa stiffened her shoulders. “I am strong.”

“We shall see little one. We shall see.”

<<>>

Alistair let out a long slow breath. “Maker! He beat you? You were only a child!”

Elissa laughed, then smiled a cynical smile. “Yes, he was a complete bastard. Completely unyielding, unremorseful, and cruel. If my father had any idea what he put me through for all those years, he would have had him hanged. But then, I would not be able to fight, nor control the blood. I would be weak and afraid, instead of the amazingly competent woman you see before you.”

Alistair was shocked. “So you…liked the training? You grew fond of him?”

Elissa crossed her arms. “The year before he came, my cousin kicked my mabari. Tellux was only a puppy, barely weaned. The blood came upon me. They found me days later in the woods. I had beaten my cousin so badly, they had to bring a mage from the Circle to heal his broken bones. I ran in the woods for days, attacking small animals with my bare hands. Do you think that any amount of pain would deter me from silencing that madness? From assuring that would never happen again?”

Alistair was silent. He thought about how he would feel if he hurt someone he cared about. “So it worked? His cruelty…his methods cured you?”

Elissa closed her eyes, breathing deeply. “I will never be cured. It is a part of my mind, something I was born with. I cannot erase it. Vanithan realized that I needed to train, to learn to control my fear and anger. The only way to teach me that control was to terrify me, to make me angry. Every single day. And I trained, with him and eventually with the guards. I learned to defend myself against his brutality and match my skills to those of the knights. I did not need the darkness anymore. His training was brutal, but it was a blessing.”

“But what about the way you fight? It is more than just control with you. I’ve seen you…it is almost like you know what is going to happen before it does.”

“That was the other part of the training. Vanithan was more than just an abusive master. He taught me how to observe everything, how to slow my mind in the midst of battle to see every aspect. Learning to suppress the darkness took mediation and discipline. That meditation involves seeing what is there and what is not there. Identifying strengths and weaknesses was only the first step. I learned to see how things moved, to anticipate what direction a foe would go or which way his sword would strike. I was taught to notice the smallest things…tension in the shoulders, a vein throbbing in the forehead, a twitch of the lips. Every eye blink reveals something more in an enemy.”

“But this sounds like something you could teach others.”

“No. It would slow a normal person down, trying to take in all of that information at once. The reason I can do it is…the edge.”

Alistair raised his eyebrows skeptically. “The edge?”

“It is not easy to explain. Vanithan taught me to visualize the darkness, as a real thing. A room, for example. Inside, it is difficult to see anything. But if I can find the way out, I am free. So that is how to rise from it, how I force the darkness to release me. But it goes the other way as well. Just before I fall into the room, the door is there. It is at that entrance that everything…slows. For that moment, the blood does not block out sound…it amplifies it. The door is not just rimmed in light…it glows. It’s like…balancing on a precipice, at the edge of the abyss. My senses are awake, completely focused. As long as I can dance on the edge of the darkness, right between the light and the dark, I can see both. The light allows me to see, the darkness allows me act. It is a balancing act. It took years to learn. But it’s not perfect. Sometimes I fall through the door anyway. Other times, I cannot find it when I need it.”

Alistair looked at her. “Have you ever…you know…just stayed in the room?”

Elissa looked haunted. “Not since I was a child. When Highever was taken, I did let it take me. But not completely. I was still…somewhat aware. I have to be careful with it. It…it is…intoxicating.”

Alistair looked confused. “I thought you said you hated it?”

Elissa smiled. “I do. I don’t want to be a monster. But…sometimes…” She sighed. “Sometimes I wonder what would happen. If I just let go completely. There is no such thing as regret in that room, Alistair. No fear, no pain, no duty, no love, no light. What human can say he has not dreamt of such a world? Anarchistic. Completely free from restraint. Wild and untamed.”

“I think it sounds horrific!” Alistair realized what he said. “Not you. You’re not horrific! But I mean…if you don’t…if you can’t love…if you have no duty, no law…you are no longer human. Are you?”

Elissa looked at her hands. “I have killed men. My hands are covered in their blood, even after I wash it away. Is this human?”

“It is…survival, Elissa. The rudimentary part of our nature. But your hands have also given comfort, strength, courage. They have created as well as destroyed.”

Elissa held out both hands, palms up. “In one hand I hold death. In the other, life. With one I kill, with the other, I create. It is a balancing act, dancing on the edge of the light and the dark. But one cannot tiptoe on the edge forever. Eventually, one must fall. Which way will I fall, I wonder?” She looked at each hand. “Ver a ti mismo. Conócete a ti mismo. See thyself. Know thyself. It is not easy to do. It is not without pain.”

Alistair just looked at her. He didn’t know what she wanted him to say.

She lowered her hands. “It doesn’t matter. It is something Vanithan once said to me. It is all a choice. Every action. Every inaction. Each one tips the scales.” Elissa laughed. “And you thought you had escaped all talk of morality with the Chantry, eh?”

Alistair smiled. “Their morality is all about obeying and chanting. No mad Antivan analogies or gruesome stories of childhood trauma.”

She laughed and straightened her shoulders. “Anyway, enough dark talk. I want you to train Roland in some of these templar methods as we travel. I have a feeling we haven’t seen the last of magic, and I want him safe. I worry enough about the darkspawn blood affecting him. If he is going to fight by your side, I want him equally prepared.”

Alistair noticed how she switched with ease to the role of leader. Her voice was steady and sharp all at once. Determined. He bowed his head. “Your desire is my command.”

Elissa laughed as she rose. “Be careful Alistair. You give me too much power, I may take advantage of you.”

Alistair watched as she walked over to Roland. He wondered how she had endured it, all those years of brutal tutelage. He had never met a woman so…complicated. She was smart and funny. She was brave, and also completely reckless at times. And her temper was…a little scary. But she had a sadness about her that he thought went deeper than the massacre of her family. Her thoughts always seemed tinged with it.

Alistair continued to sharpen his blade. He felt somewhat inadequate. She did seem to enjoy talking to him. But why? He was no philosopher, no beacon of virtue. And she had made it clear that she wanted nothing more from him than a neutral friendship. What did she gain by speaking with him?


	18. Bastards

Alistair was nervous. They were only a day from Redcliffe and he knew as soon as they arrived, it would all come out in the open.

He paced through the camp, looking for anything to do. He gathered wood for the fire. He polished his sword. He even took the time to wash his clothes. But he couldn’t work up the courage to tell her.

He was hanging his wet things on a low tree branch when she approached him.

“Alistair? Are you alright?”

He jumped at the sound of her voice. “Of course. Never better! Just needed to get some things clean. No use in wasting a perfectly good lake, right?”

Elissa cocked her eyebrow at him. “Of course not. Except that we will arrive in Redcliffe tomorrow and I am sure we will all have our clothes washed then.”

“Yes…well…I didn’t think of that. All the werewolf and elven magic must have addled my brain a bit. Not that there was much there to addle in the first place.” _Shit, I’m babbling._

Elissa walked over to him and placed her hand on his arm. Her touch sent a strange sensation through him and he looked at her. Her eyes were searching, waiting for him to tell her what was wrong. “Talk to me Alistair. I need to know what is waiting for us in Redcliffe. You act as if we are walking into a trap and I would like to know it before we do.”

He took a deep breath. “It’s not a trap…not for you anyway. Look, I haven’t been to Redcliffe since I was a boy and there are things…things that may come out when we are there.”

“Old lovers? Angry foes?” Elissa smiled, trying to soothe him.

“No! Nothing like that. Look, remember how I told you that my mother was a serving woman at the castle and that Arl Eamon took me in after she died? The reason he did that was because…well…because my father was King Maric.”

Her eyes widened. She dropped her hand, suddenly angry. “And you don’t think you should have told me this before?”

“Look, I didn’t mean to lie to you. It just…it never really meant anything to me. I’ve always kept it a secret, even from the other Grey Wardens. Duncan was the only one who knew.”

“But you didn’t think that in our present circumstances that this was important? That I am travelling around with someone who has a potential claim to the throne in the middle of a civil war?”

“Of course I did…but…there was a part of me that liked you not knowing.”

Elissa crossed her arms. “So you enjoyed keeping secrets. From me? After I told you things. Painful things, Alistair. After we…after what happened between us?”

 _She’s angry_. “No…no no no, that’s not what I meant! Everyone who ever found out treated me differently afterwards. Even Duncan. I just…wanted you to know me as Alistair, not some King’s bastard.”

Elissa’s didn’t look convinced. “You were worried about how I would treat you? How could you be so selfish? Why would you think I would treat you differently?”

Alistair was starting to get angry. “Oh I don’t know. Maybe the whole “potential claim to the throne” line? And you’ve made it pretty damned clear that you are focused on getting your army and to the void with all the rest. Like you said, you have no time for _distractions_.”

Her cheeks reddened. “That has nothing to do with this.”

Alistair couldn’t help himself, his hurt coming to the surface. “Doesn’t it? I am just another camp follower to you anyway, right?”

Her eyes widened. “I never said that!”

“I am Grey Warden, you know, the same as you. I don’t want to be a pawn in a bunch of noble bickering. A bargaining chip in your plans!”

Elissa stepped back from him, her eyes furious. “So that is how you see me? A noble woman who cares nothing for anyone, making devious little plans that involve using my friends? Do you think I am doing all of this to play politics? You are an ass, Alistair.”

“Oh? Why not call me a bastard? Now that you know, you can insult me properly!”

She shoved him. He stumbled back a little into the tree. “Do not put words into my mouth, you little shit! _You_ are the one who lied to _me_!” She stormed away.

Alistair was furious. He picked up his scattered clothes from the ground, mumbling to himself. He heard someone approaching and turned quickly, ready to yell at her again. Instead, he saw Roland coming towards him.

“Oh great. Now she sends her knight to abuse me. You can piss off too.”

Roland stopped and crossed his arms, his eyebrows raised. “I am not some errand boy, you know. I only came this way because Elissa is storming through the camp and I didn’t want to get hit by something. I didn’t realize it was you who put her in this mood.”

Alistair, dropped his shoulders. “Sorry Roland.” He ran his fingers through his hair and groaned. “Damn it, I didn’t expect her to take it like this.”

Roland stood quietly for a moment. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

Alistair told him the whole story. Roland listened in silence. Finally, he spoke. “A bad way to handle it.”

Alistair was annoyed. “Well what was I supposed to do? I can’t help it that I am what I am. She has no right to be angry with me about it.”

Roland raised his eyebrows. “You know, Alistair. I was going to call you an idiot, but I guess that is unfair, considering you haven’t known her for very long. But she couldn’t care less that you are a bastard.”

“Really? It sure didn’t seem that way to me.”

“That’s because you saw what you expected to see. You assumed that because she is noble, she would, at best, think of you as nothing more than another a bastard and at worst, see the potential in using you to achieve some goal. Yes?”

Alistair sat down on a log. “Isn’t that what nobility does, Roland?”

“Maybe some do. She told you about Whitehand Hall, I assume?”

“Yes…”

“Did she tell you there was more to it that a little pissing on armor?”

“What do you mean?”

Roland sat beside Alistair on the log, pulling out his flask and passing it to him. Alistair declined and Roland shrugged, taking a sip. “The man who raised me was not my father. I was Ser Edmund’s half-brother by blood. I am the bastard son of his father’s and one of his father’s tenants. As soon as I was born, he convinced my mother to give me to the man who raised me. A poor man who was lesser nobility, but whose own wife was too sickly to have children. None of the Highever guards knew, which was a blessing considering I eventually became Captain of the Guard. But Ser Edmund knew of me and despised me for it. He tried to keep me from joining the melee, but the Couslands insisted I be allowed to participate. Edmund and his brothers did more than piss on my armor. They scratched “bastard of the bannorn” on my breastplate. I could not fight with such a thing defiling the Cousland armor, so I withdrew. When Elissa saw it, she was furious." 

He smiled. "You should have seen her. She was livid, pacing through the tent, muttering to herself. Then, she got this look on her face.  I knew then that Edmund was in trouble." He took another sip from his flask. "Long story short, she made him pay, made him look like a coward and a fool in front of his own people.”

“Sure, but that’s not the same. You two have been friends for years. Of course she would do something like for you.”

Roland looked annoyed. “I don’t think you quite understand what happened. She sullied her own name with that stunt. Her parents were outraged. They told her she brought shame on the Cousland name. They dismissed her tutor, Vanithan. I personally hated the man, but he was one of the few people that truly understood her. Her parents felt that his tutelage was partly to blame...that she was too focused on training and not enough on being a proper noblewoman. She was never allowed to fight in another melee. The only reason that she was allowed to keep training at arms was because Guran and Fergus forced the issue. Despite all of that, she kept my secret."  
  
Alistair shrugged. "How do you know she was protecting you? Maybe she just didn't want people gossiping about one of her knights, Roland. Maybe she did it for selfish reasons."  
  
Roland glared at him. "Don't try to diminish an act of selflessness, Alistair. It makes you seem small."  
  
Alistair's cheeks burned. "I didn't mean..."  
  
"I can't control what you or anyone thinks of her. But you will speak of her with respect in my presence."  
  
Alistair sighed, running his hands through his hair. "I...apologize. I wasn't trying to belittle her actions, Roland.  I just...I have never met a noble who didn't always think of themselves first."  
  
Roland shook his head. "You still don't get it do you?  She didn't just anger her parents. While some of the Highever knights thought the prank was funny, several of them never trusted her after that. You don't know how many fistfights broke out in the ranks. Fergus and I were both involved in a few of them. And the townsfolk…you know how tales spread. When she went to the village, they would all avoid her, hide their children, and shut their doors. And do you know what she did? She _laughed_ about it. It meant nothing to her what any of them thought of her. She suffered all that to protect a bastard who was her friend.”

Alistair was stunned. “Then why was she so angry when I told her? She acted like me not telling her was…dangerous to her plans.”

Roland sighed. “Do you think a woman like her is afraid of her plans getting muddled? You underestimate her. Alistair…she was angry because she is trying to protect you…to protect all of us. This information means that you are at risk, more than she realized. She was angry at you for withholding something that made you vulnerable. And you _lied_ to her. Not a smart move.”

Alistair put his head in his hands. “You’re right Roland. I’m an idiot.”

“Well don’t take it personally. She makes us all feel that way now and again.”

“So now what do I do?”

Roland clapped him on the shoulder. “Be brave. And try not to be an idiot.”

<<>>

Alistair finally made his way back to camp. Elissa was sitting away from the others, polishing her weapons. Alistair wasn’t sure if bravery included coming up behind an angry woman with deadly blades, but he had to speak with her sooner or later.

“Elissa.” She kept her back turned, ignoring him. “Look, can we talk?”

She didn’t look at him. “Just be careful what you say. I’m just some evil bitch without a conscience, out to use you, after all.”

Alistair sighed and sat down next to her. “Look, I’m sorry for saying that. It’s just…being…what I am…I’ve just hated that it has colored my whole life. The people at Redcliffe all assumed I was the Arl’s bastard. So the other noble children ignored me while the common ones called me a bastard behind my back. But I didn’t grow up sleeping on silk sheets or anything. I slept in the stable, and trained with swords. Once the Arl married, his wife disliked me so much that Eamon was forced to send me to the Chantry. Lady Isolde…an Orlesian noblewoman who despised me from the first moment she laid eyes on me. She assumed the rumors were true and he couldn’t deny them so…poof…off I was sent at age ten to become a lyrium-addicted templar. All because my father couldn’t keep his hands off of some poor woman.”

Elissa kept polishing her blades.

“I was angry with Arl Eamon for so long. I felt like he abandoned me there. I felt like that’s what all nobles did. They protect themselves first and damn the rest of us. They bury what they are ashamed of.”

Elissa stopped polishing her blades and looked over at him. “The Arl just left you there…without a word?”

“No. But it felt that way to me as a child. He did visit a few times, but I refused to see him. I hated it there and blamed him for everything. And he just stopped coming after a while.”

Elissa touched his arm again. “Alistair, you were a child.”

“Sure, good excuse. When he sent me off, I destroyed the only thing I had of my mother’s in a fit of rage. A locket, with Andraste’s holy symbol on it and my mother’s likeness painted inside. I threw it against a wall and it shattered. Stupid, stupid thing to do.” He hung his head. “But maybe all young bastards act that way.”

Elissa looked at him seriously. “People are who they are, regardless of their birth.”

Alistair wasn’t convinced. “Look, I know you have strong ideals. But life just isn’t like that. I am a bastard. Period. It doesn’t matter if I am the bastard of king or a nobleman or a commoner. I have no right to a name, no real family. So, let’s just forget this, alright? And you can pretend I am just another nobody who wasn’t lucky enough to be killed with the other Grey Wardens.”

He started to stand, but she grabbed him and forced him to look at her. “You don’t really believe that do you?” 

He dropped his head. “No. What I really believe is that I was lucky to survive…with you.”

She waited until he looked up at her again. “Alistair, it matters little to me who your parents were. You are you and I…am glad you are with me. And…if any of those little shits in Redcliffe say one word to you, they will have me to deal with. No one speaks ill of my friends.”

Alistair smiled. “So we’re friends, huh? Good to know you care, Warden.”

She sighed. “Of course we are friends. Do you think you could make me so dammed angry if I didn’t care about you?”

He shrugged, then smiled. “Well…I’m glad it’s all out in the open now, anyway.”

Elissa returned his smile. “No more secrets between us? Promise me?”

“You are far too dangerous to lie to, my lady.” Alistair cocked his head to one side. “I promise, as long as you promise not to hold it against me.”

“Well, I may call you ‘my prince’ now and again. It seems…thrilling.”

“Oh? Did I just find the one damned decent thing about my birthright? I think I did.” He winked at her.

She rolled her eyes. “It explains a lot actually. You’re not just a bastard, but a _royal_ bastard.”

Alistair laughed. “Good one! I’ll have to use that line more often. So…you’re not angry anymore?”

“No. But you need to trust me Alistair. We have a long road to travel together before this is all done.”

“Well, at least we’ll get to relax a little in Redcliffe.”

She smiled. “Thank the Maker for that.”


	19. Monsters and Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Note - a little shout out to DAI in this chapter. I wonder if you'll catch it...

Zevran Arainai had travelled most of Thedas. Despite his humble beginnings, he had excellent taste and prided himself on being able to find the beauties in all lands. Orlesian women were as fair and as delicate as their wine was bitter, their lace fans and porcelain masks hiding penetrating eyes, their words full of subtly and poetry. Nevarran boys had skin the color of honey, and stood out against their pale stone cities like sapphires in white sand, desperately alive despite the older generation’s obsession with the dead. Rivani children wove beads into their thick black hair, their feet making their own music as they as they ran through the crowded cities, their voices rhythmic and full of life. Even Tevinter, with its golden domes and statues of basalt, had a pulse running through it that went beyond the mages and their magic, a sense of history and depth that even the lowliest slave was a part of.

Every land had its own song, its own beauty.

Expect Ferelden.

He trudged behind the creaking dwarven wagon, his feet aching from the long hours on the muddy road. He couldn’t decide if it was better to walk in the rivets, which assured he had constantly wet feet, or on the edge of them, where he would inevitably twist his ankle.

An assassin of no little talent, his struggle to walk gracefully in this winding country only added to his dislike of it.

No matter where he walked or where he looked, he saw nothing but grey skies, brown leaves, and dirt. And dogs. _Ah yes, let us not forget the Ferelden dogs._ One could hear them howling at night, in the morning, in the evening. Packs of dogs followed by packs of children ran through the fields they passed, and Zevran could scarce tell them apart. Mongrels shuffled past them, their tails wagging in anticipation then dropping in inevitable regret as the party passed. Zevran had been keeping count of the sad creatures, and was convinced they outnumbered the people.

Even his Ferelden companions had more in common with dogs than other people. Morrigan’s unsettling yellow eyes bespoke her wolf-like qualities. She looked at everything, her ears pricking at the smallest sound. He caught glimpses of the dark wolf that roamed away from her camp in the evening, and was convinced the witch chose a wolf as her form simply to enjoy the delicate art of licking herself.

Zevran had to admit, there were benefits to being a dog.

Elissa was a fair creature. Her golden hair was long and full, even though she kept it pulled up in that dreadful knot that hid her cascading waves. And she was graceful, despite her small stature, wielding her blades with a fluidity that reminded him of Antivan bravados. But her grace stopped at swordplay. She walked with quick, heavy steps, her legs slightly out in front of her upper body, as if they were leading her someplace she didn’t particularly want to go. Her eyes could be captivating…in the right light or when she laughed. But often, they seemed almost feral, their darkness devouring the light instead of reflecting it. Zevran admittedly began to enjoy her company, mostly because she had a wit that was unexpected in a noblewomen. But even though she spoke Antivan beautifully, a balm to his ears after being so long in the south, she often smelled like that beast mabari that was always under her hand or lying at her feet. He had even seen the dog crawl into her tent with her at night.

Again, Zevran could see the advantages of being a dog.

Alistair was so Ferelden that it was almost painful to watch him. He practically growled whenever Zevran approached, his long nose snarling and eyes glaring in an expression that Zevran found rather comical. He was an attractive man, and Zevran could not deny his boyish good looks, punctuated by the dimples that formed in his cheeks when he smiled. His skin drank in the sun, and his tan skin contrasted perfectly with both the golden and reddish tones of his hair. Yet he seemed blissfully unaware of his appearance, his stained shirts giving the impression of a messy schoolboy rather than a gifted warrior. And the way he ate, cramming food in his mouth without taking a breath and licking his plate afterwards…it was as graceful as a pig in a trough. He even pawed his nose in his sleep.

Zevran was lost in his thoughts, his pace slowing as he considered his Ferelden companions. The tall northern knight strode past him, his feet steady and sure on the muddy road.

_Ahhh, yes. Just when I convince myself of something, there is always an exception to the rule._

Roland’s hair was a deep red, which reminded Zevran of the colored silks Rivani dancers wore around their waists. He was no dog lord, despite being Ferelden to the core. He moved like a cat, his long strides carrying him forward with ease, his body moving gracefully beneath his heavy armor. Zevran had been able to admire his naked form as they swam together. His body was long and lean, but his shoulders were broad, giving him a slightly burly look despite his height. He did not move in the ungainly way that many tall men did. He towered above most people and seemed perfectly content to do so. He was the rare creature that seemed completely comfortable in his own body.

Zervan had bedded many redheads, and they often had freckles along their shoulders, if not on their faces. Though Roland’s skin tended towards paleness, Zevran had yet to spot a single blemish on him, with the exception of the scars that all warriors bore. Zevran forced himself not to sigh out loud as he thought of what the morning light did to the man’s skin when he rose from the lakewater and ran his hands through his wet hair.

He was an intense man, his eyes often narrowed in silent contemplation, a crease above his nose that added a fierceness to his brooding expression. Where Alistair’s eyes were golden brown, soft and full, Roland’s were a vibrant blue, piercing and sharp.

Zevran sighed. He watched the brooding knight stare ahead at Elissa and Alistair, his brows drawn down as his blue eyes burned into their backs. Occasionally, he would sip from his flask, his constant companion on this seemingly never-ending journey.

Zevran enjoyed Roland’s company. He was the rare Ferelden who actually took the time to think before he spoke. He was a serious man, but seemed less judgmental than most Fereldens Zevran had encountered.

When Zevran made a pass at him during once of their watches, Roland smiled for the first time. “I kissed another man once. It wasn’t for me. Stubble.”

Zevran was honestly surprised by his candid answer. In his experience, most Ferelden men would never admit to such a thing. Encouraged, he argued. “But I have no stubble. In fact, I have hardly any hair at all. I’m as smooth as my Dalish mother.”

Roland shrugged, passing his flask, his blue eyes sparkling in a rare moment of mischief. “Women are dangerous, Zevran…mysterious. Every woman, whether she is a scarred warrior or a plump housewife, has something hidden in her, just waiting to break free. Something completely unique that belongs only to her. It’s the only reason I even bother...to enjoy that moment with them. To be a part of something I don’t fully understand. Men…we carry all we are out in the open, for all to see. There is nothing surprising in us. It just...doesn't seem worth the trouble."

Zevran had plenty of arguments for that, but the knight just smiled that tempting, delicious smile. Zevran’s charms were lost on him.

But the knight had his faults. While graceful and composed, Roland drank more than was good for him, his cheeks often matching his hair by the time their shared watch ended. Zevran suspected he was using the drink to help him sleep, and his snores were a constant hum in night while others slept fitfully or called out in their dreams. He was also a stubborn man, who spent more time arguing with the woman he clearly desired instead of wooing her. Zervan had a feeling the drink helped him deal with that as well.

_Fereldens. Even the best of them are trapped under an eternal grey sky._

He realized Leliana was walking beside him, her soft voice humming some snippet of song. She smelled like honey and sweet melon, her femininity highlighted by her form-fitting leather armor and the delicate braid she had worked into her short red hair. He wondered how such a remarkable woman ended up in such drab company.

She looked over at him, her pink lips turning into a hint of smile. “And why are you smiling at me like that, Zevran?”

“You, my lovely bard, are the only precious jewel in this desolate place.”

She laughed. “You have obviously never been in a Chantry. Some of the sisters there are as beautiful as any Orlesian bard.”

“And yet they hide it all beneath the most unappealing clothes. The phrase 'cloistered sister' brings to mind drab cream-colored linen robes and scratchy woolen underclothes. Is that why you left?”

“I left to follow the will of the Maker.”

“Ah yes. How could I forget? Elissa told me of your vision. The darkness swallowing the world and the Maker reaching out to you to do his work. Do you truly believe that nonsense? You seem a great deal too knowledgeable of the world to be so naïve.”

She smiled at him. “My experience of the world has taught me more than you, my dark assassin.”

“Oh?”

Her smile widened, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “The most precious jewels are never the ones we wear, Zevran. They are the ones we keep hidden.”

Zevran laughed. “Then this country must be full of hidden caches! Let us find the nearest Chantry as soon as possible. I have not been thoroughly debauched in weeks! Though I imagine Ferelden women would force me to roll around with their mabaris before allowing me into their beds.”

Leliana laughed. “The sisters would eat you alive, Zevran, then feed what was left of you to their dogs.”

“Ah, the perfect punishment for all my crimes. It is only fitting, considering I have cursed this uncultured country since I arrived.”

She was thoughtful for a moment. “Ferelden is not as refined as Orlais, I agree. But there is strength here. The Maker smiles on this place.”

Zevran laughed again. “Yes, lovely bard. He smiles on the dog-men of Ferelden by smiting them with a Blight. At least he sent you, Orlesian temptress that you are, to teach these bland people how civilized folk take down their foes.”

Leliana’s tone became serious. “The Maker is mysterious, Zevran. I do not claim to know his will, only to do what I must. But if I have to fight darkspawn, I would rather it be in this country than anywhere else. Fereldens do not waver and they never give in. They are as tireless in battle as an Orlesian is in love.”

The party stopped, the road taking a sharp curve down a steep incline. Leliana and Zevran shuffled past the wagon, standing with the others who stood looking out over the valley.

In the distance, Zevran saw the castle, a massive structure sitting stoically on a steep rise above the village below. The castle was wrapped in fog, its ramparts thrusting through the grey blanket like jagged teeth. The red flags whipped in the high winds, struggling against the grey sky.

He heard Alistair, his voice speaking with a sort of reverence. “That’s Redcliffe Castle. Arl Eamon told me once that the fate of Redcliffe is the fate of all Ferelden. Maker willing, it will never fall.”

Zevran stared at the castle, something stirring in him.

_If this place had a song, it would be the sound of battle drums, echoing through a valley. Savage soldiers, hands wrapped around hilts, mouths set into grim lines, marching endlessly against a merciless foe._

Zevran smiled. Perhaps there was beauty in this place after all.

<<>>

Elissa couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

She looked over at Alistair. His eyebrows were nearly touching his hairline. Behind him, both Zevran and Leliana were eyeing the Bann incredulously.

She turned to her left. Roland and Sten both stood with their arms crossed, brows furrowed. Even Tellux had his head cocked to one side.

_Well, at least we all agree._

She turned back to the Bann, rubbing her temples as she spoke.

“The attackers come from the castle?”

“Yes.”

“And they are dead?”

“Yes.”

“Well…shit.”

The Bann raised his eyebrows at that.

Elissa took a deep breath. “What I don’t understand is why the knights left. Does Ser Perth have nothing to say in defense of his brothers-in-arms for abandoning these people?”

Bann Teagan rubbed his neck. “Ser Perth claims that it was Lady Isolde who sent the knights away...on some mad crusade. He also seems to think that dark things were happening in the castle before the knights departed, though it is unclear what the situation is. None of the knights have a clear memory of what went on there.”

“Why have you not sent men to investigate?”

“Any who approach the castle are assailed by these creatures. They also attack any who attempt to leave the village, so I have been unable to call for aid. I am surprised that you and your companions were even allowed entry into the village.”

Elissa wondered about that as well. “Tell me more of these creatures.”

“They appear to be…reanimated corpses. Either they cannot be killed or they have no end in number. We have thusfar only been successful at holding out from night to night, but there seems to be no end to them. My people cannot hold out for much longer.” He dropped his head, rubbing his eyes, his exhaustion clear. “How does one kill what is already dead?”

Elissa sighed. An excellent question. “Is there any other information about why this is happening? Any idea who may be behind this madness?”

Bann Teagan shrugged. “I had my men ask around the village, discreetly, to find anyone who may be involved in these attacks or know something about what is happening. The only strangers in our midst are two thugs who claim to be business associates of Dwyn, a dwarven merchant who lives in the village, and an elven traveler who came through town searching for his brother. They seem to know nothing of this matter.”

“What about the castle? Any new occupants recently? You know…someone twirling a staff around?”

Bann Teagan’s eyes flicked quickly to Morrigan, then back to her. “Ser Perth claims that the Arlessa hired a tutor recently for her son. Owen’s daughter works at the castle and told her father that he seemed…rather odd.” Teagan’s eyes widened. “You believe magic is at work?”

Elissa did her best not to roll her eyes. “The dead come walking, and you did not even consider magic? What else could it be? Surely the people here haven’t offended the Maker so badly that he would send the undead to punish you all?”

The Bann looked taken aback. “I had not considered…” He was thoughtful for a moment, then looked at her and smiled. “Your brother warned me long ago that you do not suffer fools, Lady Elissandre. I should have heeded his warning.”

It was Elissa’s turn to be lost for words. “You…knew Fergus?”

He smiled, though Elissa’ noticed his cheeks were slightly redder. “He and your father visited my brother last year.”

Elissa crossed her arms. “Neither my father nor my brother ever mentioned dealings with your family. What business brought them here?”

Teagan looked uncomfortable, but he tried to hide it. “They were…making arrangements with the Arl.”

Elissa kept her arms crossed, glaring at him.

He sighed. “Apparently I was…ummm…considered as a candidate for your hand.”

Elissa’s mouth dropped open. She heard Alistair snigger and Roland grunt. She had no idea that her father and brother were involved in finding her a husband. Her father told her repeatedly that marriage contracts were her mother’s domain, and he wanted nothing to do with it. And yet, he had traveled with Fergus all the way to Redcliffe to discuss the possibility of her marrying this man?

Elissa wanted answers. “Why was I not informed of these…arrangements?”

The Bann’s cheeks were flaming at this point, but he maintained his dignified pose. “It was nothing official, my lady. Nor would I agree to any such thing without your involvement. Your father and brother simply wanted to meet me. They…spoke very highly of you. Both of them thought that you…that you and I would…make a good match.”

Elissa was speechless. She looked to Roland for support, but he was too busy glaring at the Bann to even look in her direction. She tried to think of something to say. “If they thought that, then…why have we never met?”

The Bann shuffled his feet. “I was…your father thought it best that I delay my visit to Highever to meet you. I believe his exact words were 'let her tire of the fools'. My brother and I arranged to visit Highever this spring so that I could formally make your acquaintance.”

She was shocked. _My father was…playing me? He let my mother parade those idiots in front of me to make his choice seem for me seem more appealing. Maker, I had no idea!_

Elissa wasn’t sure how she felt about it. She looked at the Bann closely. He was an attractive man, though older than her by several years, the lines around eyes suggesting he was very near thirty. He seemed strong, and had thusfar handled this madness in Redcliffe well. The people of the village owed him their lives…that was clear.

It spoke of his worth that her father would even bother travelling to meet with him. Her father detested travel, preferring to remain in his own lands as much as possible. And Fergus had also agreed with the match. Part of her thought it preposterous that her silly brother would be involved in such an arrangement. But she also knew Fergus cared for her deeply and would not have supported the match had he not felt strongly that the two of them would be compatible.

 _They must have truly thought this man would be the one I chose_.

Elissa willed herself to speak. “I…forgive me Bann Teagan…I don’t know what to say. My father and brother are…no longer…”

Teagan’s eyes darkened. “I am sorry if this is upsetting to you, my lady. I realize with all that has happened, that it must be difficult to process. When I heard what happened to your family, it sickened me. Your father was honorable and steadfast and your brother and I became fast friends in our short acquaintance. They did not deserve such treachery.”

Elissa spoke without thinking. “No one gets what they deserve, Teagan.”

There was an awkward silence, thankfully broken by Alistair. “So…the Arl…you haven’t heard anything from him, Teagan?”

Teagan sighed. “Alistair, I wish your homecoming had happened sooner. Eamon was ill the last time I saw him, and I fear for his life in this madness. I beg you to stay and help us fight this evil.”

Alistair looked at Elissa, his eyes pleading. She nodded, too distracted to speak herself. He turned back to Teagan. “We’ll see what we can do.”

<<>>

The yard was full of villagers, and Elissa noted them all as she passed. A gruff man with a scraggly beard was coordinating the men, checking their weapons and assigning them to groups. A cloistered sister was ushering a group of small children though the madness, urging them into the Chantry. A young woman was sitting on lone a stump, her eyes staring blankly at the smoke that spiraled up from the funeral pyres burning at the edge of town. Chickens and sheep were being jostled into makeshift pens. A gnarled old man was smoking a pipe, muttering to himself. A young lad clutched his lady as she cried into his shirt, soothing her with empty words.

They looked tired, defeated. Elissa wondered fleetingly how many of them would be dead come morning.

She sent Leliana and Sten to question the recent arrivals in Redcliffe. She figured a combination of muscle and wit would be required to get real information if these men were somehow involved with what was happening. Roland and Zevran were coordinating with the militia, devising a strategy that involved forcing the midnight horde into a bottleneck rather than facing them head on. Elissa knew the militia needed captains capable of devising such a plan, and her knight and assassin had the keenest minds in the group. Morrigan and Alistair were charged with rallying the remaining townsfolk and gathering supplies for the effort. Elissa reasoned that whomever Alistair could not win over with his charm and Grey Warden regalia, Morrigan could either shame or confuse into joining the effort.

Elissa accompanied Teagan to meet with the remaining Redcliffe knights. She felt blind. She needed to know what was happening in the castle, and the knights would know more than anyone.

As they walked up the hill to meet with Ser Perth and his men, Teagan spoke to her.

“Lady Elissandre, I wish to beg for your pardon. I should not have brought up…I know that speaking of your family must be very painful. I did not handle the situation tactfully.”

Elissa spoke quickly, determined to hide her embarrassment. “There is no need to apologize Bann Teagan. I forced the issue. And besides…you have much to occupy your thoughts, and that is far more important than social niceties.”

The Bann smiled. “I just wanted you to know that regardless of how it turned out…your father thought well of you.”

“Not well enough to involve me in the planning of my own affairs, it seems.” Elissa didn’t know why she felt so bitter about it. She always thought her relationship with her father was an honest one. That he would keep such a thing from her stung. She felt resentment at his interference, and anger with herself for feeling resentment against him.

The Bann slowed, touching her arm. “My lady…I wish you would let me explain.” He removed his hand, sighing. “Your father…he only came to Redcliffe at the Arl’s invitation. My brother…frankly, my brother has been meddling in my affairs my whole life. He has been trying, unsuccessfully I might add, to get me settled with a suitable wife but I…am a stubborn man.” He barked a short laugh. “He thought I would be more receptive if it were you because…well, because of how I spoke of you after Whitehand Hall.”

Elissa stopped at these words. “Whitehand Hall? You’ve heard the stories then?”

Teagan smiled. “It was more than a story to me. I was there, my lady. You must not remember but…you bested me on the field.”

Elissa’s mouth dropped open. “I did? I don’t…”

Teagan’s eyes were far away. “You were magnificent. You knocked me from my feet by slamming the pommel of your dagger into my knee and then another into my wrist to turn my blade out of my hand. You took me down like a baker cutting butter. I remember the look in your eyes when you asked me to yield. I think you were smiling, though your helm hid most of your face. I hobbled to the sidelines afterwards and watched you, a girl who moved like the wind. Then you ripped your helm off, your hair catching in the breeze, pulling that beast from the barrel...I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed anything more the sound of Ser Edmund screaming.”

Elissa hid a smile. “Most of the nobles were outraged.”

He laughed again. “Yes. Which only added to my…ummm…respect for you. It seemed like something I would do when I was your age.”

Elissa tilted her head to the side. “You are not so very old, Bann Teagan.”

“Perhaps not. Yet I am not the wild youth I once was. Still…I was not opposed to meeting you, my lady. I wish that I had been able to under…better circumstances.”

She smiled at him then. “Well, it is all in the past, Bann Teagan. I am a Grey Warden now, without estate or title or…family.”

The Bann looked down. “Yes. But I still firmly hold to my initial opinion.”

“Which is…?”

“You are an extraordinary woman, Lady Cousland.”

Elissa turned from him quickly, hiding her blushing cheeks. She saw Alistair and Morrigan walking to join them and she slowed so that they could catch up. Alistair looked annoyed and Morrigan was grinning like a cat with cream.

Alistair's cheeks were red. “I would have been fine without your help you know.”

“Yes. Discussing the merits of smoked fish did seem to inspire them.”

Alistair huffed. “Smoked fish is a staple in Redcliffe. You’d know that if you hadn’t been hiding in the wilderness with your crazy mother all these years.”

“Yet, despite my relative isolation, I was able to acquire all the oil we needed without discussing the finer points of gutting a fish.”

“Confusing the merchant and then forcing him to sign some agreement is not convincing Morrigan. It is…underhanded.”

“Different hands for different jobs, yes?”

Elissa rolled her eyes at the arguing pair. “Were you two successful?”

Alistair huffed and Morrigan answered. “The merchant agreed to supply the oil for Zevran’s plan, though he raised some fuss about catching the whole village on fire. A valid concern, Warden. I hope that elf knows what he’s doing.”

Elissa shrugged. “We’ll know soon enough.”

The group reached Ser Perth. The knight saluted Teagan and bowed low when introduced to Elissa.

She wasted no time with niceties. “Why did the Arlessa send you fellow knights away?”

Ser Perth looked conflicted. “The Arl has been sick for weeks now. The healers could do nothing and the Arlessa was desperate. She has tasked the Redcliffe knights to seek out Andraste’s holy ashes.”

Alistair shook his head. “Of course she did. The Arl gets sick, the dead take over the town… sending all the best fighters to seek something that probably doesn’t exist is the obvious choice, really.”

Elissa studied the knight closely. “Teagan tells me that odd things were happening before the knights left. What do you remember?”

Ser Perth looked troubled. “I…cannot recall clearly. It is like some dark fog has settled over my mind. My men admit to the same feeling. Something is…wrong up there…”

Before he could finish speaking, Bann Teagan called out in surprise. They looked up and saw a woman runing towards them from the castle. Her embroidered dress and intricate hair marked her as noble, though she looked haggard and upset.

She reached them, breathless. “Teagan! Thank the Maker I found you!”

Teagan looked shocked. “Lady Isolde! How did you escape the castle?”

The woman shook her head. “I have no time to explain, Ty. You must come with me at once.”

Alistair spoke up. “Oh sure! He should just run up to the castle of horrors because you command it? What is happening at the castle, Lady Isolde?”

“How dare you speak to…Alistair? Of all the…what are you doing here?”

Bann Teagan answered. “Isolde, Alistair is a Grey Warden now. He and Lady Cousland have traveled far to speak with Eamon. They are here to help.”

Lady Isolde looked surprised. “I…apologize. But I have little time. I only managed to sneak away from the castle and if I am gone for too long…”

Elissa interrupted. “Lady Isolde, we need answers. We had no idea anyone was even alive in the castle. The Arl…is he…”

“Eamon is being…kept alive.

“What do you mean kept alive?”

“I…I don’t know what is safe tell. There is a terrible evil within the castle. The mage responsible has been caught, but the evil persists. And…I fear Connor may be going mad. I need you to come with me, Teagan. I need you to speak with him…to reason with him.”

Elissa sense she was hiding something. "You claim a mage is responsible for all of this?"

“Yes.  His name is Jowen and he was...Connor's tutor. He unleashed something terrible. So far, it has allowed us to live. But it killed most of the others, turned them into walking nightmares!”

Morrigan spoke up. “What is it this terror he unleashed? A demon?”

“I don’t know. I only know that my son is going mad and my husband is on his deathbed. Please Ty, please come to the castle. It has…agreed to let you in.”

Teagan looked conflicted. Elissa grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at her. “You are not actually considering this, are you Teagan? What of the village? What if it is a trap? We should go with you.”

Isolde looked terrified. “You mustn't! I must go back, before it senses betrayal. Please Ty, come quickly. I ask you on behalf of my son. I beg you, do not order your men to storm the castle. It will kill Connor. ”

The Bann patted her arm. “Alright Isolde. Take a moment to rest and I will return with you after I speak to the Wardens.”

He motioned for them to follow him to the stables, out of earshot of the terrified Arlessa.

Alistair spoke first. “Teagan, you can’t abandon the villagers.”

“I am not abandoning them, Alistair. But we must find out what is happening in the castle if we are to end this madness. We need a plan.”

They turned to Elissa. She was quiet, taking her time to think over the situation. She began stroking one of the horses, a brown mare with a streak of white on its nose.

  
*****

"The rider rides and horse listens."

Fergus clucked at the horse. He had one hand on the horse’s neck, trying to keep it calm, and another on her leg, helping her keep her seat.

“You have to relax, Elle. The horse wants you to tell it what to do. But you have to convince it that you know what you’re doing.”

Elissa let out a long breath, her hands clutching the reigns. She felt like a gnat on its large back, her short legs barely fitting into the stirrups. “Vanithan says I won’t be able to ride the horse until I understand the horse.”

Fergus rolled his eyes. “Antivans don’t know anything about horses, Elle. Ask any Antivan to sail you across the sea, they are the experts. Other than that, they are useless.”

“That’s not true!”

The horse trembled, annoyed at the little girl on its back. Fergus clucked at the horse again. “Elle, stop fidgeting! You have to let the horse know that you are in charge!”

Elissa threw up her hands. “How? I don’t know how to ride him yet!”

Fergus stopped, turning around and yanking her out of the saddle. She squealed when he threw her up and then placed her on his narrow shoulders. He was tall, even though he was only thirteen, and she grabbed his hair to keep from falling off.

“Let me down, Fergus!”

He laughed at her. “Cmon, sis. Pretend I’m a horse. How would you make me go where you want me to?”

Elissa chewed the inside of her jaw. She tightened her legs, forcing her feet under his armpits. Grabbing his hair, she yanked his head to the left. He walked in that direction. Giggling, she yanked him to the right to make him turn. She dug her foot into his armpit, laughing as he whinnied in response and took off running around the paddock. She felt herself slipping from his shoulders and struggled to stay on.

“Stop Fergus! It’s scary!” Fergus huffed and stamped his foot. He started jumping up and down, pretending to buck her off. She clutched his hair tighter, holding on to him with all her strength, squealing.

Finally, he let her down. She peered up at him, brushing her hair out of her eyes, catching her breath. He kneeled down in front of her. “See? If the horse knows you are afraid, it will buck you off. You have to be the boss. That shouldn’t be hard for you. You tell Roland what to do all the time.”

She put her hands on her hips. “That’s just because I’m smarter than him.”

“Are you saying the horse is smarter than you?”

She looked up the white mare. “No…but it’s…big. It doesn’t listen when I tell it to do things.”

He ruffled her hair. “Elle, you don’t have to know a thing about a horse to ride a horse. Father says that riding a horse is like leading men. You don’t have to think like a leader. You just have to be a leader.”

She crossed her arms. “That’s stupid, Fergus.”

He smiled, pinching the end of her nose. “Who said leaders were smart?"

He lifted her up and sat her back on the horse again, making sure her feet were settled securely in the stirrups. “Trust me, sis. Your big brother knows more than that Antivan tutor. Sometimes, you just have to ride the horse. Don’t think about it, just do it.”

Elissa rolled her eyes. Fergus never made any sense when he was trying to sound smart.

She looked down at him. He was her big brother. She knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to her, but she was afraid. She leaned down and whispered to him, so that he would know she was being serious. “She’s so big. If I fall off, it will hurt.”

He patted her leg, giving her a reassuring smile. “Yep. And then you’ll get on again.”

*****

Fergus was right. She needed to act.

Clearing her throat, she turned to the others. “Alright…here is what we are going to do…”


	20. Fire in the Valley

Roland stood ready.

He held the Teryn’s sword in his hand. It was a beautiful weapon, the laurel wreath inlaid in silver on the hilt, the blade glowing in the moonlight, brighter than any weapon on the field. Part of him felt like a phony, a bastard who had stolen an ancient artifact and was brazenly wielding it in some vain attempt to be more than he was. The other part enjoyed the power of the blade in his hand, its strength flowing through him. He felt indestructible.

Roland was no fool. He knew Elissa asked him to carry the blade mostly to get him to shut up about the plan.

_It will work._

_It’s too risky._

_I will not abandon Teagan in that castle. We can make it._

_We don’t even know how many of those things we’ll have to fight through to get there._

_We have no choice._

_There is always a choice._

_Then choose to listen to me. Choose to trust me._

_It’s not about trust, Elissa…_

_I want you to carry my father’s sword in the battle._

_What?_

_Carry it for me. I need him with us._

_You should the one to…_

_It’s too big for me._

_I am not fit to carry Elethea’s blade, Elissa._

_You are the last of the knights of Highever. You are the only one fit to wield it._

_I can’t..._

_It is my choice, Roland. I trust you with it. And I am asking you to trust me._

Roland shook his head as he held the ancient weapon. Was there nothing that she couldn’t convince him to do?

_That women will be the death of me._

The men of Redcliffe spent the day digging the trenches at the mouth of the valley. The oil glistened in the rivets, crisscrossing down the valley and lining the sides. Leliana and Morrigan were stationed together on a far ridge, awaiting the signal. Sten, Zevran, and Tellux stood with the Redcliffe knights, prepared to hold the horde back from the village proper as they poured in the valley, their job to use the men to keep the creatures pinned at the valley’s mouth. Roland, Alistair, and Elissa stood nearby, ready to fight their way through the horde to find entry into the castle.

Roland looked at Elissa. She was pacing, her arms flared out in anticipation of drawing her weapons. Her chest was heaving, her fingers twitching. She looked ready. He turned to the men of Redcliffe. The knights stood firm, but there were too few of them. The villagers stood behind, the exhaustion clear on their faces. They would need to be motivated.

When the sound of their approach filled the air, Elissa turned to the men of Redcliffe, pacing in front of the line.

“Who is in the Chantry?”

No one answered. Roland could feel their fear, thick in the air. He gripped the Teyrn’s sword and said a silent prayer.

Elissa called out louder. “Men of Redcliffe! I asked you a question! Who is in the chantry? Who do you fight for?”

A lone voice called out. “My daughter!”

Another voice followed. “My children, my wife!”

Another voice. “My mother and brother!”

Another. “My love, Eleanor!”

Voices began raising in the stillness, drowning out the sounds of dead footfalls on the mountainside with the names of loved ones. Roland glanced up at the ridge, looking for Morrigan. Her spells would cloak them in darkness. They had to make it.

Elissa called over them. “Who stands with you?”

Voices returned. “My brother, Wilhelm! My father! My son, Ranualt! My kinsmen!”

Roland watched the witch raise her staff. He could feel the ground trembling, the first screams from the mouths of the dark creatures.

Elissa called out to them again, pulling her daggers from her back. “Who will defeat this menace? Who will prevail?”

Voices crying out in the darkness, overlapping each other and mixing with the sounds of steel blades being drawn. “The men of Redcliffe! The Grey Wardens! The Red Knights!”

Roland could see them now, skulls grinning beneath bits of flapping flesh, armor clanking madly off of rotted skin. He felt the cloud of magic wrap around him.

Elissa crossed her blades above her head. “Do not forget! Do not fear! Do not falter!”

She turned towards the darkened valley. She looked quickly at Roland and winked. Before he could respond the black cloud enveloped her.

He held his breath and followed her into the darkness.

<<>>

The qunari felt the first twisted thing fall beneath his blade. He watched as it split in half, its innards full of dust and ash. His blade found another of the creatures, its wordless scream dying on grey lips.

These creatures smelled wrong. Their death was not satisfying. The qunari had ripped paper with less effort.

He looked up the valley. The creatures rushed towards them, filling the valley floor with corruption. They were weak in flesh but plentiful in number, lambs ripe for the slaughter. And they were coming for him.

The qunari sniffed in disdain. What a waste of his skills, to fight such worthless foes.

He smelled the oil, noted the dark liquid that filled the ditches. The qunari was glad.

If the fire did not kill them, fighting flaming foes would at least test more than his patience.

<<>>

Roland could see clearly, despite the magic that surrounded him. He was glad for that. His biggest fear had been trying to move through the horde blindly.

He could hear Alistair, although he could not see him. Roland was used to him constantly talking, but in the midst of a horde of undead creatures, it seemed a little much. He brought his sword up and slashed one of the creatures, exposing bare ribs. The lack of blood made him feel slightly ill.

Alistair yelled. “There is no end to them!”

Roland knocked one of the creatures down with his shield, stomping its head into the dirt. “We don’t have to kill them all. We just have to get through.”

“Are you sure they can’t see us?”

Roland ducked, a rusted blade passing over his head, held by a skeletal arm with bits of grey flesh hanging off it. He forced his sword into its chest, using his boot to push the creature off his blade. “It wouldn’t be this easy if they could. Besides,” he slashed another creature across the mouth, and watched the devilish grin on its face widen before the top half of its head fell off, “I can’t see you.”

“Good point. I think I see where they are coming from up ahead!”

Roland swung his blade in a wide are, decapitating what looked like an old woman with half its skull already missing. “Go! Before Leliana decides to light this valley up with us in it!”

Roland did not like having his life in the hands of some witch from the Wilds. If she betrayed them, or her spell faltered, they would be exposed in the center of the horde. So far, the mad creatures seemed unaware that foes were dismembering them within their ranks. They simply pressed down the mountain like a black wave.

He heard Alistair’s voice, closer this time. “How do you know she hasn't fallen?”

Roland sliced another creature, making his way to the sound of Alistair’s voice. “Because I trust her. Now move!”

Roland continued slashing his way through the horde. He could see where they were coming from, a hollow nestled in the valley side. It was a cave, partially hidden from view by gnarled willow roots, the fronds of the twisted tree obscuring the entrance. He waited till the last of the creatures emerged from it before entering, leaving the horde to continue its endless advance down the mountain.

As soon he entered the cave, Roland felt the spell dissolve, both he and Alistair becoming visible. Elissa was waiting for them, her sword wedging the gate that connected to the castle tunnels. It was creaking and moaning, trying to push against the obstruction, as if it were alive. She motioned for them to hurry. As soon as they entered, she pulled her blade loose and the gate slammed shut. They were in the tunnels under Redcliffe castle now, and the only way was forward.

Elissa put her fingers in her mouth, letting out a sharp, long whistle.

Far away, at the mouth of the valley where the creatures were now trapped, Tellux howled in return.

<<>>

The qunari kept fighting. He stood before the small men of Redcliffe, a giant amongst children. He held the line.

Only a few of the creatures made it past him. The men were able to dispatch them, though not as swiftly as him.

Tellux stood firm beside him. The animal knew how to hold a line. He knew his place.

The elven assassin ran around the creatures, dodging their clumsy attacks, laughing as he took their heads. He fought like a madman. The qunari was not impressed.

He heard the woman whistle. The qunari could hear far better than human men. The qunari did most things better than human men.

Tellux howled in return, and the qunari watched the flaming arrow shoot across the sky.

When the creatures began burning, their twisted grey forms dancing madly in the flames, the qunari almost smiled.

<<>>

Alistair brushed a cobweb out of his face. “You know, it would have been nice to know about this cave before we fought through a crowd of skeletons.”

Ahead of him, he saw Elissa’s shoulders shrug. “They were more fleshy than skeletal, I think.”

“True. The armor hid most of it, though, so I guess we’ll never know.” He brushed another cobweb out his face, wondering how she seemed to be missing them all. “But I still don’t get why we didn’t start farther up the hill in the first place.”

Elissa paused, holding her hand up for silence. She turned left. Alistair hoped she knew where she was going. He couldn’t hear anything but dripping water.

She kept walking, finally answering him. “Two reasons. First, Morrigan needed natural darkness to pull from for the spell to be effective. Had we attempted it in the daylight, we would have been slaughtered for getting too close to the castle.”

She cursed, her foot banging against a jagged rock. She took a moment to rub her leg, before starting again. She seemed to have forgotten his question, so he asked again. “And the second reason?”

She stopped, turning to him. “Courage.”

He cocked an eyebrow at that. “You think that was courageous? I’d go with ‘batshit crazy’, Elissa.”

She rolled her eyes and turned, continuing to walk. He felt Roland move up beside him. “Is this some Highever code I don’t know about? You know, taking the most complicated route possible to earn your laurel wreath, that sort of thing?”

Alistair could see Roland’s bright blue eyes in the darkness. He did not look amused.

Alistair coughed. “I…wasn’t trying to be insulting, I just meant…”

Roland moved ahead of him, speaking without turning. “Courage for the men. To see Grey Wardens plunge into darkness alone. It gave courage to the Redcliffe men.”

Before Alistair could answer, he felt flapping wings rush past his head, and gave out a cry of surprise. He tried to draw his sword, only to ram his elbow into the increasingly narrow tunnel. Then, he heard Morrigan’s voice directly in front of him. He almost yelped in surprise, but thankfully held it in.

“The creatures are burning, and the village is saved. I thought this journey would be more interesting than watching grown men pat each other on the back.”

Alistair was dumfounded. “You…did you…were you a…?”

Morrigan turned sharply, following Roland up the tunnel. “You should really close your mouth, Alistair. You never know what might be flying around in this place.”


	21. The Master of Redcliffe

Morrigan could feel the magic pulsating behind the doors to the main hall.

They entered the castle through the dungeons, and found the mage Isolde had spoken of. He looked beaten, shivering in his damp cell, his hair matted and his robes filthy. He claimed that he had not seen any guards for days and assumed they left him for dead. Roland gave him water and Elissa questioned him.

He denied any knowledge of what was happening in regards to the undead creatures. Morrigan was inclined to believe him. His power was paltry compared to her own, and she could not have unleashed such terrors as those that invaded Redcliffe without great cost.

He did, however, have other information.

Alistair was shocked by the first bit of news. “Connor is a mage? That’s…that’s not possible!”

The mage, Jowen, was adamant. “Connor is indeed a mage. I have been working with him for the past few months. The Arlessa hired me in secret to train him.”

Alistair wasn’t convinced. “But…Eamon’s family has no history of magic!”

Morrigan sniffed in disdain. “You do realize that most mages are never spoken of, yes? Ask any family in Ferelden if they have magic in their blood and they will deny it to their dying breath. Yet somehow, the Circles are full of mages. Do you imagine they are conjured up from thin air?”

Alistair crossed his arms. “I just assumed they were all birds that magically transformed into snarky witches.”

Elissa interrupted them. “Are you saying that a child caused this madness? Are young mages even capable of that?”

Morrigan shrugged. “It is unlikely that a child could possess such raw power. However, any mage who comes under the possession of a demon could easily do such damage, regardless of ability. A powerful demon and a weak mage is a dangerous combination.”

Elissa turned to Jowen. “Tell me now, mage. Did you trick that child into summoning a demon?”

The mage sputtered. “Of course not! Why would I do that? I am an apostate! The Arlessa was keeping me safe from the Circle. Why would I jeopardize that to fill the castle with undead creatures?”

“Why were you on the run from the Circle in the first place?”

The mage hesitated. “Because I…dabbled in blood magic.”

Alistair spoke up. “Dabbled? What…you just used your pinky finger?”

Elissa crossed her arms. “You are a maleficar, and you expect us to believe that you are not complicit in these crimes. I’m finding that hard to believe.”

Jowen sighed. “Look, I made mistakes at the tower. I am not a blood mage, not anymore.” He threw up his hands in frustration. “I am not claiming to be a perfect man. But I did not do this! Those creatures come through here every night, banging against my cage and then running out through those tunnels. The only reason they haven’t killed me too is because I’ve been locked up in here away from them!”

“Then why were you a suspect? What made Isolde blame you?”

Jowen dropped his eyes. “I…don’t know.”

Elissa turned to Morrigan. Morrigan nodded and raised her staff. She pushed against Jowen’s mana, twisting it with her spell. He yelped in surprise at the sensation, and tried to push back. She easily increased the pressure of her spell, sending pulses of energy into his mana.

She knew what this spell felt like. Flemeth taught her this trick at a young age by doing it to her. It felt like pressure in the ears and nostrils…at first. With more energy added to it, it felt as if your head was vibrating like a bell. Added to this, for a mage, was the sensation that the Veil was warping against you, smothering you and pulsating wildly at the same time. It was almost impossible to access the Fade with the Veil so turbulent, and thus difficult to use magic to fight back.

It was a terrible sensation, but effective. Morrigan knew he would not last long.

Jowen began writhing in agony, falling forward against the bars of his cell. He finally relented. “Alright, I’ll tell you!” Morrigan released the pressure, freeing the mage from the spell.

Elissa wasted no time. “Talk.”

“The Arl. I…I was the one who poisoned him.”

Alistair reached through bars and grabbed the mage. “You poisoned Eamon? Why?”

Jowen answered quickly. “Teryn Loghain made me do it!”

Alistair tightened his grip. “How did Loghain know you were here?”

Jowen spoke quickly. “I was on the run from the Circle when his men found me. He found out somehow that Connor had magical abilities. He convinced Lady Isolde to hire me as a tutor for the boy, promising to protect him from the Chantry, to keep her secret. I thought he just wanted to help her and I was happy to do anything to stay out of the Circle. I saw it as…an opportunity to do something good…for once. Everything was fine for a while. But then…he sent a messenger a few weeks ago, told me that I had to kill the Arl. He said he would see to it that I was made tranquil if I didn’t do it. I had no choice!”

Morrigan spoke up. “So you poisoned the Arl and the child made a deal with a demon to save his father. How quaint.”

Jowen pleaded with them, begging them to release him and let him do what he could to make amends. Morrigan tried to persuade Elissa that having another mage in their group could be beneficial, given what they might face, but Alistair was against the idea and convinced her to leave him in the cell.

They made their way quickly through the rest of the castle. It was eerily quiet. There were no guards, no servants, no undead…not even mice in the walls. But there was something dark lurking in the castle. The air was filled with it.

Now that they stood at the door of the main hall, Morrigan regretted that they left the mage in his cell. Something was waiting for them on the other side, and Morrigan sensed that it was ready for them. She could feel its power. She could feel its hunger.

Before she could warn the others however, the doors opened. Morrigan took a deep breath.

It was time to meet their host.

<<>>

“Look mother! We have guests!”

Lady Isolde stood on the dais beside her son. Bann Teagan was standing before the dais, facing Connor. A few soldiers stood along the hall, but Elissa noticed that their eyes looked empty beneath their helms.

The boy snapped his fingers, and music filled the hall. Elissa looked up, noting the gallery was empty.

“Come, uncle! Entertain our guests!”

Teagan began dancing, kicking his feet in the air and twirling around. He even did a backflip. It would have been comical if the look on his face wasn’t so devoid of all feeling. He was Connor’s puppet, and the boy was making sure they knew it.

The boy laughed. “See mother. I told you Teagan was enjoying himself.”

Isolde spoke quickly, the fear clear in her voice. “Yes, Connor. He is having…so much fun. Well done.”

Connor turned to them. “Welcome to Redcliffe! I am the master of this hall.” His voice was eerily child-like. “What are they mother? I can’t see them well enough.”

Isolde answered. “These are Grey Wardens, Connor.”

Connor snapped his fingers, and Teagan slumped to the floor, his dance complete. “Grey Wardens? The prayers on foolish lips. The ray of light in the darkness. Come to save my village. Come to spoil my fun.”

Elissa spoke carefully. “We came to see the Arl. We heard he was ill and...we wish to pay our respects.”

Connor looked her up and down. His eyes were not those of a child. The way he looked at her made Elissa’s skin crawl. He turned to his mother. “This one is young, prettier than you, mother. It must make you mad with envy!” He laughed. "I am surprised that you do not attack her in a fit of jealousy.  I could help, you know."

Isolde was afraid. “Please Connor…don’t hurt anyone.”

“Quiet fool woman!” He turned back towards them. “I am sure father is much too ill to receive to visitors.” He licked his lips.

Morrigan spoke quietly to Elissa. “He is an abomination and the Veil is sundered. We must destroy him.”

Connor yelled. “It is rude to whisper. My mother whispers, praying to her Maker. She is a fool. You are all fools. I am the master here, and fools have no place in my hall!"”

Elissa spoke again. “Connor…where is your father?”

“Alive, just like I wanted. It was a fair deal! It is my turn to rule, my turn to send armies of steel into the world. I am the master here.”

He flung his arm wide. The hall shook. Morrigan sent a shimmering field towards him, knocking him back.

Isolde screamed. “Stop!”

The knights in the hall drew their swords. Elissa, Roland, and Alistair drew theirs in response. Before they could advance, however, Teagan cried out. “Wait!” The knights hesitated, confusion passing through their ranks. Elissa held her hand up for the others to hold.

Connor was lying on the ground, Isolde crouching over him. He sat up, a confused look passing over his features. “Mother? Where am I?”

Morrigan spoke up. “The child is back, for now. We must destroy him while he is weak!”

Isolde pulled Connor from the ground, forcing him through the back doors. “Run, Connor. Hide!” The boy ran.

Elissa cursed. She moved quickly, sheathing her blades and grabbing Isolde by the shoulders, forcing her to look at her. “You let this happen!”

Isolde started crying. “Please…he is just a boy.”

Teagan approached. “Lady Cousland. What is going on?”

Alistair answered. “We found Jowen in the dungeons, Teagan. Connor is am mage. He is possessed by a demon, the price for saving his father’s life.”

Isolde screamed “The mage is a liar! He placed a spell over Connor. This is all his doing. Teagan, you have to believe me!”

Teagan turned to one of the guards. “Bring the mage. I will question him myself.”

<<>>

The hall was quiet except for the voices of the Bann and the mage. Ser Perth and his knights had finally arrived, able to open the main gate in the brief moment that Connor regained consciousness. They brought news of victory against the creatures in the village. Leliana, Sten, Zevran, and Tellux were with them. Sten and Leliana had a letter from Loghain, written in his own hand, which they obtained from his elven spy in the village. The letter was proof that Loghain had indeed instructed the mage to poison the Arl. The evidence was incontrovertible.

Teagan had been questioning the mage for a while now, and all stood silent in the hall, listening. Elissa was growing impatient. They needed to act, and soon.

Isolde stood alone, weeping silent tears as the mage answered his questions.

“We have Loghain's letter. Do you admit to poisoning the Arl?”

Jowen bowed his head. “Yes. But I did not curse the boy. I would not even know how to do such a thing.”

Isolde trembled. “You are a liar. This is your fault, Jowen.”

Elissa had been standing quietly, out of respect for the Bann. But this had gone on long enough. They needed a solution, and quickly, before the demon took hold of the boy again.

She laced her voice with contempt. She wanted her meaning to be clear to everyone in the hall. “No, Lady Isolde. You are the liar here.”

Isolde flinched as if she’d been slapped. “How dare you…"

Elissa spoke louder. “I am the daughter of a Teryn, a native of Ferelden. You are an Arlessa by marriage alone, and an Orlesian by birth. I dare because I have the right to. So keep your mouth shut.”

Isolde’s eyes widened at that. Elissa continued. “This is your fault, Lady Isolde. You put your people at risk the moment you hired the mage instead of giving your son to the Chantry. You purposefully hid his condition from the Arl. You could be tried and hanged for these crimes.”

Isolde was stunned. “I wanted to save my son!”

Elissa took a menacing step towards her. “You are the Arlessa of Redcliffe. Your duty is to your people, not to your own wants. Your negligence is appalling. These lands are a stronghold of the realm. Your actions border on treason.”

Bann Teagan turned to Elissa, his voice softening. “Lady Cousland…”

Elissa turned her head sharply, eyeing the Bann with a cool look. “Enough _Bann_ Teagan. Her crimes have been exposed. We have witnesses. The blood is still fresh in these lands. You cannot condone her actions.”

The Bann faltered, looking desperately at Alistair.

Alistair spoke up. “Look, placing blame is pointless. We need to find a way to help Connor. We need a plan.”

Morrigan answered. “The only way to help the boy is to kill him.”

Jowen spoke up. “That is not technically true. I know a spell, a powerful one. It requires that a mage enter the Fade and confront the demon there. We may be able to break its hold over Connor.”

Morrigan huffed. “A bold plan. But where do you suggest we get power for such a spell?”

Jowen dropped his eyes. “It is possible. But it requires…blood.”

Alistair crossed his arms. “Absolutely not! We are not using blood magic!”

Elissa looked at the mage closely. “How much blood?”

The mage sighed. “A lot. It is a heavy price. It would require…a sacrifice. The entirety of one’s life force. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

Isolde spoke up. “I will do it. Let it be my blood, my life.”

Bann Teagan grabbed her arm. “No, Isolde! I will not allow it!”

She looked at him, her eyes sad, but determined. “What is my life, when my son’s life could be saved? No, Ty. This is not your choice. As Lady Cousland has pointed out, she has the authority here. The decision is hers.”

The Bann looked at Elissa. “That is a technicality at best. A Bann still has rights in his own lands, under the Landsraad…”

Elissa interrupted him. “You are the Bann of Rainesfere, not Redcliffe. The Arl is the only authority here that can contradict me, and he is ill.”

He crossed his arms. “Then I demand we take this to Denerim. To the Queen.”

Elissa crossed her arms as well. “Your request is noted, Bann Teagan. However, I have more than noble rank on my side. I am a Grey Warden, and this is a Blight. If I conscript Isolde, she must do what I say. You have no authority.”

The hall was quiet. It felt as if everyone was holding their breath. The Bann looked at her, his eyes pleading and angry. He moved towards her, grabbing her arm and speaking quietly. “Your father would not approve of this, Lady Cousland. I beg of you to reconsider.”

It took all of Elissa’s strength not to slap him. Instead, she bit out the words. “My father is dead, Teagan. And you are not my husband. Unhand me.”

He let go of her and stepped back. The look on his face felt like a knife in her belly.

_Now you see what I truly am._

She turned to the hall, raising her voice. “Isolde has offered her life in payment for her crimes against these lands. I accept her offer on behalf of the people of Redcliffe. That is my decision and it is final.” She drew her blades, throwing them to the floor.

“I offer my own blades for the deed. May the Maker forgive me.”

She walked out of the hall, aware that every eye was on her. Tellux whimpered as she passed. Leliana attempted to speak and Elissa raised her hand. “Leave me alone.”

They let her pass. She could feel their anger, their confusion. But it meant little.

She sentenced a woman to her death. She consented to blood magic.

They could not hate her as much as she hated herself.


	22. For Those We Love

“Your hair is so beautiful, Elissandre. I wish you would take better care of it.”

Elissa rolled her eyes, looking at her mother through the mirror. “I wash it at least once a week. What more can I do?”

Her mother continued brushing her hair. “A woman’s hair is her glory, Elissandre. You are luckier than you know to have such soft, blonde hair. It catches the sun. They say a man is blind when a golden-haired woman is before him.”

Elissa laughed. “Well, that’s a good thing. If they are blinded, it is easier to stick them with my blade.”

Now it was her mother’s turn to roll her eyes. She began braiding, her fingers strong and quick, practiced. Elissa noticed she looked troubled. “Is everything…I was only joking, mother.”

She sighed. “I…heard a rumor.”

Elissa’s shoulders tensed. “Oh?”

She took a deep breath. “Some of the knights saw you and Ser Gilmore. A few days past. On the hill.”

Elissa chewed her lip. “It was just a kiss, mother. To…wish him luck on becoming a knight.”

“You two have always been close.”

Elissa sighed. “He is my friend. He…understands things.”

Her mother stopped fussing with her hair. She knelt down beside her, looking up at her seriously. “Elissa, you are not a child, and I will not treat you like one. Roland is a good man. He is loyal and kind. But he is a bastard, with little to inherit. You cannot…”

Elissa interrupted her, slightly mortified that her mother was speaking to her about this. “I know mother. So does he. We are just friends, nothing more.”

She smiled, placing her hand on Elissa's arm. “It is good to have friends. You need people who care for you in this world. It can be very lonely without them.”

Elissa raised an eyebrow. “Are you lonely, mother?”

“Of course not. I have your father and you and Fergus. But I have to be…I have to do my duty, Elissa. It is the path of all noble women. You must marry. And when you do, your duty will be to your husband. To your own children. To your people. And your friends will still love you. But you may have to put duty before friendship. Do you understand me?”

“Yes. I understand.”

“Ser Gilmore took his oath. He is a Highever knight. He has his duty as well. You must let him follow his path now, and you must follow yours.”

“Are you saying…that I can no longer be his friend? Mother, you know he…helps me.”

“I know. And I know it has been more difficult for you since Vanithan left. That is why I…did not wish to bring it up. But you must be careful. He protects you because he cares for you.  But he also protects you because it is his duty. Do you understand the difference?”

Elissa shrugged. “Not really.”

Her mother stood, kissing her forehead on the way up. “No need to worry about it now. You are seventeen. There is still time, but you will marry soon. There is no avoiding the inevitable, Elissandre. You must be ready.”

Elissa turned back to the mirror. She looked at herself, her long blond hair framing her face, her dark blue eyes staring back at her. She wondered if she would look different as a married woman, if her eyes would still be her own. Her mother stood behind her. She had lines etched into her skin, from both smiling and scowling. Her face was still beautiful though. Elissa did not feel as beautiful as her, even though her skin was smoother. Her mother radiated such dignity, such strength.

“Will my husband love me, or will he just do his duty?”

Her mother placed her hands on her shoulders, looking at her seriously through the mirror. Her eyes were sad, and it made Elissa feel bad for asking the question.

Finally, she answered. “Perhaps you were right, Elissandre. It is not always easy to tell the difference.”

*****

Elissa stormed out of the main hall, walking quickly down the long corridor. Her footsteps were quick and angry, and her hands were balled into fists.

Alistair jogged to catch up with her.

“Hey, wait!’

She continued walking, ignoring him.

He sped up to reach her, grabbing her arm. She spun around to face him, yanking her arm from his grasp and shoving him back.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

He held his hands up, surprised at her reaction. “Hey, relax! I am not your enemy! I just want to talk to you about this.”

“There is nothing to talk about. The decision has been made.” She started to turn from him and he grabbed her arm again, forcing her to face him.

“So that’s it? This is how you lead, now? No room for argument, for listening to what other people have to say?”

She looked at him seriously, breathing heavily through her nose. “If you don’t let go of me, I will end you.”

He stared at her a long moment. “Why would you say to that to me?”

She just back stared at him, fuming.

Alistair let go of her arm, balling his own hands into fists and forcing them to his sides. He was trying to stay calm, but she was not making it easy. He heard Roland’s footsteps behind him.

_Great. Now I’ll have him to deal with too._

She continued to stare at him, her black eyes full of anger. He took a deep breath.

“I know you’re angry. I get it. But listen to me. We can’t let this happen, Elissa. It isn’t right.”

She was still breathing heavily. “It is a fitting punishment for her crimes.”

Alistair threw his hands up in frustration. “Crimes? Are we here to dole out punishment? She didn’t mean for this to happen! She was trying to protect her son!”

“No. She was trying to hide her shame. That’s not the same thing.”

“So…what are you saying? That we let that mage kill her? How will that change anything?”

“Justice is not always kind.”

“This isn’t justice! It’s retribution!” He turned to Roland. “Don’t you have anything to say? You can’t tell me that you agree with this!”

Roland ignored him completely. He was staring intently at Elissa.

Alistair ran his hand through his hair, wishing he could shake some sense into Elissa. He knew better…Roland would likely draw his blade if he touched her again.

Still, it was tempting.

He looked back and forth at them, trying to make sense of what was happening. “Am I the only one here who thinks this is completely insane?”

Neither one answered him.

He turned to Elissa again. She was so angry she was shaking. _Good…that means I don’t have to do it for her._

Alistair crossed his arms, determined to reason with her. “Listen to me. This isn’t smart. You are not thinking like a Grey Warden. Eamon will never support us if we condone his wife’s death as part of a blood ritual. We gain nothing here. This is what _you_ would say to _me_! I know you would, if you weren’t so pissed off.”

Elissa closed her eyes, her words coming out in a strange rhythm. “You don’t know me, Warden.”

“I know you are smarter than this. Elissa…this is _blood_ magic. How do we know it will even work, or if the mage is even telling the truth? We need to come up with a plan, take a few minutes to think this through.”

She opened her eyes and stared at him, her gaze steady and cold.

_At least I have her attention now._

He softened his voice. “I know you don’t want her blood on your hands.”

She looked down at her hands, lifting them slowly towards her face. She twisted them, looking at her palms, her eyes wide and unblinking. She looked almost fascinated by them.

Then, she laughed.

“This is not a joke! I am not going to…”

Roland’s voice interrupted him. “Stop.”

Alistair spun around. “Don’t tell me to…”

Roland pushed past him, grabbing Elissa by the shoulders. “Stop, Elissa.” His voice was calm but firm.

Elissa laughed again. When she spoke, it sounded like she was speaking through liquid, her words thick and heavy. “Blood in the hallways, on the curtains. It ran through this hall like a river. It’s in the grains of the wood, soaked in. I can smell it.”

Alistair realized something was wrong. He remembered her voice, at Ostagar. _I need to kill something, Warden._

Then it hit him.

_She didn’t call me Alistair. She called me Warden._

_Shit._

Roland grabbed her face, trying to get her to meet his eyes. “Look at me. I am Roland and you are Elissa. You know that. You’ve always known that. It is real. This is real.”

Her eyes were darting around madly now, rolling up to look at the ceiling, then down to look at the floor. They were wide open and black as night. Alistair backed up a step, unsure what to do.

Roland’s kept her face firmly between his hands, trying to make her look at him. “Remember the meadow we found? The one with the trees with the white bark? Remember the leaves? Green on one side, yellow underneath. And when the wind blew…”

When she spoke, her voice was empty. “The people ran through here, screaming. They were ripped apart. I can feel them beneath my fingers, under my toes.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “They were squishy, like old fruit.” She laughed again, then licked her lips. “I wish I had been here. I could have shown them true terror.”

Alistair spoke. “Maker’s breath! Roland is she…”

Roland shook his head, once, without looking at him. _Be silent._ Alistair shut his mouth.

Roland let go of her face and grabbed her hands, holding them firmly. “When the wind blew, they trembled, fluttering, so that all around us, it looked like a shimmer of green and yellow. Like they were more alive than alive. Do you remember that?”

Elissa tilted her head back and laughed, her head rolling slightly back and forth. Alistair felt the goosebumps travel up his arms. Her laughter was almost a gurgle, from lungs that were filled with oil instead of air.

Alistair heard footsteps behind him and turned. Morrigan was walking slowly towards them from the main hall, watching the scene with fascination.

When she reached him, she spoke quietly. “Careful. Our warden is here no longer.”

 _Tell me about it._ Alistair felt sick.

Roland shook his head. “She’s here. She’s just being stubborn.” He glanced quickly at Morrigan. “Don’t let anyone through those doors.” Morrigan nodded once and raised her staff, her spell briefly illuminating all the doors in the hall. No one would disturb them.

Elissa’s head snapped forward, her eyes meeting Roland’s. Without warning, she snarled and yanked her hands with all her strength, trying to free them from his grip. Roland held on, grunting with the strain of trying to hold on to her. She was breathing heavily through her nose.

“Let me go, knight.” She spat out the words.

He pretended not to hear. “You’re quick, but I’m strong. What were those trees called? You know the ones. The smallest gust of wind and the whole meadow was in motion. We had a name for them, but I don’t remember now.”

“I will rip your fucking head off and swim in the blood, knight.” She struggled again, but he held her.

His voice remained calm. “No, that wasn’t it. You remember. You’re just being difficult. It was something poetic. Your special name for them.”

She pushed herself towards him, attempting to unbalance him and knock him back. Roland responded by slamming her to the ground. She thrashed furiously, kicking her legs. He straddled her, keeping a tight grip on her hands. “I will tear your throat out with my teeth!” She snapped her teeth together, biting at the air.

He was breathing heavily, but kept his voice light. “I remember now. The ‘trembling trees’. You always wanted to go there, after practice. To run around like a wild thing under the trembling trees.”

Alistair whispered to Morrigan. “Can’t you do something? Help her?”

Morrigan shook her head. “She is disconnected from the Fade. I…cannot touch her. It is quite intriguing.”

“She’s a person, not some arcane mystery, Morrigan!”

Morrigan continued to watch her. She mumbled something to herself, though all Alistair heard was “bridge over a deep…” before Elissa’s scream filled the hall.

Her scream sounded like it was ripped from her lungs, all of her power going into it. Alistair hoped that Morrigan's spell on the doors also muffled sound. Roland did not budge. She started slamming her own head into the floor. Roland cursed, forcing her arms above her head, trying to stretch her body out to keep her from hurting herself. He looked up at Alistair. “Help me!”

Alistair rushed over, grabbing her head and forcing it to the ground. She stared up at him with a look of pure hatred.

Alistair looked at Roland and nodded. “Do what you need to do, Roland.”

Roland nodded in return, focusing on Elissa. “The trembling trees. When I asked you why you liked them so much, you said you admired their tenacity. Their resolve. You said it looked like the trees were shaking a thousand tiny fists at the Maker.”

Elissa closed her eyes and started mumbling, snippets of words and curses. Spittle was flying from her lips. Alistair kept a tight hold on her head, trying to keep her still.

Roland leaned down, positioning himself so that his face was right above hers. “Look at me.”

She opened her eyes and glared at him. He spoke firmly. “You are not this thing. Your mind is yours. You are Elissa Cousland. This is real. You are real.”

She gritted her teeth, closing her eyes. Roland spoke with more authority. “Look at me!”

Roland waited to speak until she opened her eyes again. “The fields above Highever. That is where you grew up. Not in a castle, not in your rooms, not in this dark place in your mind. You became the woman that you are in the fields above Highever.”

She was breathing rapidly, staring at him with her black eyes. He continued talking to her. His voice was calm and soothing. “You grew into her, running as fast as you could up the mountainside, the tall grass all around you, the wind in your hair, the sun on your face. And you would grab my hand after practice each day and take me with you. We climbed every tree, swam in every stream. Those fields were ours, Elissa. I grew up there with you. I know you. I watched you _become_ you.”

She started breathing more evenly, her rapid breaths starting to level off. He spoke to Alistair without breaking eye contact with her, telling him to release his hold. Alistair removed his hands, rocking back on his heels and standing, moving back to give them space.

“You are more than this thing, Elissa. Every day fills you with something new, and you become more of what you are, and the emptiness gets less and less.”

She blinked. Once. Twice.

His voice softened. “I am here with you. I am real. You are real. We are like those leaves, quaking in the wind. More alive than alive.”

Roland’s eyes never left hers. He pulled her forward, so she was sitting, facing him. “You and me. Green and gold and shaking our fists at the Maker. Because we control our own destiny. Because we decide who we are. Not him. Us. You told me that. Remember?”

She stared at him like she was hypnotized.

He placed her hands on his chest. “See? We are real. We have no secrets. We are both real.”

He let go of one of her hands and reached out, slowly. He smoothed her hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “You can tell me.”

A confused look passed over her features. She closed her eyes for several moments.

Everyone was silent, waiting for her. Finally, she opened her eyes. When she spoke, her voice came out in a soft whisper. “Roland?”

Alistair was surprised. _She sounds so small._

Roland nodded his head slowly, keeping his eyes on hers. He spoke to the others without looking at them. “We need to be alone.”

Alistair started to protest, but Morrigan placed a hand on his shoulder. “She is back now, Warden. I can feel her. We should do as he requests.”

Alistair thought about pointing out that it was technically a command, not a request, but thought better of it. He nodded his head. “Let’s get back to the main hall, Morrigan. I am stopping this thing with Isolde.”

Morrigan tsked as she walked beside him. “You wish to stop the ritual? And what do you suggest we do instead?”

“I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”

Morrigan laughed. “I can’t even fathom what sort of ridiculous solution you would come up with, so I’ll save you the trouble of straining your limited abilities.”

“I am not in the mood Morrigan. If you have a suggestion, now is the time.”

“Tis why I came out here in the first place. The mage and I have an alternative that should satisfy all. But it’s risky.”

Alistair stopped in front of the door. “We just watched Elissa lose her fucking mind over this, Morrigan. I think we can handle a few risks.”

<<>>

Roland and Elissa sat face to face in the middle of the long hallway. They were sitting on the floor, cross-legged, hands in their laps with their knees almost touching. Both of them were slightly hunched over, like children sit when they share secrets. They spoke softly to keep their voices from carrying.

“What is it, Elissa?”

“Brandon.”

“What about him?”

She took a moment to answer, her brows furrowing as she tried to get the words out. “My family hid what I did, Roland. Because they had power. Influence. My father was the head of the Couslands. Everyone answered to him. It’s the same here. Power and influence…and your children can be monsters and no one will punish you for it.”

“Connor is not a monster and neither are you.”

She closed her eyes, her words coming out in a rush. “Almost everyone in this castle was slaughtered. Innocent townspeople, burning in pyres, their loved ones grieving for them, left with nothing but ash. Isolde is nobility, but she acted out of selfishness. To protect her child. Just like they did.”

“It is not a bad thing to protect someone you love, Elissa.”

She shook her head again. “They should have killed me. They should have killed me when I was born. They should have…”

He grabbed her hands. “Stop.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him. “They were going to lie to Teagan. Tell him I was strong-willed, tell him I was difficult. My _honorable_ father, suckering him in with fairytales. He thought it would work, you see. Because Teagan was at the tourney and he admired me. He _liked_ that I was fierce and wild because it reminded him of himself.”

“It might have been a good thing.”

She laughed a bitter laugh. “But father would have hidden the rest of it. My family would have lied to him about the real me. If we had married…that poor man would have been saddled with...this.”

"He could do worse."

She took a deep breath, turning her head, her eyes far away. “I should have been punished for Brandon. I should have suffered like he suffered.”

He tugged at her hands. “He forgave you.”

She laughed, turning her head to look at him. “The cripple forgives. How noble of him.”

Roland shrugged. “He is what he is. You are what you are.”

She took a deep breath. “I hate myself for it.”

“Too bad. He doesn’t. I don’t.”

“That’s because you’re an idiot.”

“You said I had brains.”

“You’re an idiot if you believe anything I say.”

“Just because I _do_ whatever you say, doesn’t mean I _believe_ everything you say.”

She barked a quick laugh. Roland reached up and brushed her hair out of her face.

He looked at her seriously. “It’s getting worse, Elissa.”

She sighed. “I know.”

“How many times since Highever?”

“At Ostagar. In the Wilds. But I didn’t lose control.”

“You’re barely hanging on.”

“I know.”

“Do you know why it’s happening so often now?”

“I think…I’m running out of reasons to control it.”

“You need that control now more than ever.”

“Maybe I want it to take me.”

“What are you really angry about? It’s more than Brandon and Teagan and Connor. Tell me.”

She didn’t answer right away. He let go of her hands, his brow furrowing.

“Elissa….I know things have been a bit…formal between us. For a while now…”

She smirked. “Except when we’re arguing, of course.”

He smiled at her, then became serious again. “But I know you. Better than anyone. And you know you can trust me.”

“My mother said formality is a veil to hide our true faces. Hiding what we really are, to protect ourselves.” She sighed, her eyes sad. “I always despised that notion."

“You've never been very good at it.”

She looked at him, her face mirroring the seriousness in his. “You thought you had to wear a mask for me? My knight, not my friend?”

“You said so yourself…I’m an idiot.”

She spoke softly. “I never wanted you to hide from me, Roland. I should have told you that. I am sorry.”

He rested his hands on her knees. “So am I.”

They stared at each other for a long moment. He cleared his throat. “Now…talk to me.”

She took a deep breath, looking down at her hands. He waited patiently for her to speak. “I _want_ to think badly of them, because it makes it easier. To think that mother was as selfish as Isolde, that my father hid me like Alistair’s father hid him…like your father hid you. That they wielded their power to protect their own. It would be easier if I could despise them for it.”

She faltered, then continued. “But they weren’t like that…not really. They saved me from it…for me, not for them. They did their best and had faith in me, accepted me as their daughter instead of locking me away.”

She looked up at him. “And then I failed them. They sacrificed so much for me and I failed them. And it is killing me.”

“You only fail them if you give in to it. You have to try.”

“You know what I mean, Roland.”

He sighed. “Yes, I do. We are both failures in that regard. But I don’t black out and slam my head against the floor.”

She grimaced, rubbing the back of her head. “Yeah, well…we all have our own ways of dealing with things. You drink. Does that help?”

He shrugged. “Not really.”

She looked at him seriously. “Did I…?”

He shook his head. “You just said some creepy shit. I think Alistair nearly wet himself.”

She laughed softly. “He fights darkspawn. I think he can handle it. Was he really upset?”

“Alistair’s feelings are pretty low on my list of priorities.” He pulled her towards him. “Let me see your head.”

“It’s fine.”

He ignored her, forcing her to turn around so he could examine the lumps. He gently parted her hair, running his fingers over her scalp. She winced when he touched the largest of them.

“You didn’t break the skin.”

“Roland…did I…?”

“I would have told you. No one was hurt.”

“Because you were here.”

He stopped his examination, using his fingers to comb her hair back into place and smooth it down her back. He stood, stepping around her and holding out his hands. She put her hands in his and he pulled her up from the ground. She swayed slightly.

“Dizzy?”

“Not really.”

He let go of her. “Are you ready to face the music?”

She smiled. “I can handle music…as long as there is no dancing.”


	23. Bones

_At last did the Maker, from the living world, make men, immutable, as the substance of the earth, with souls made of dream and idea, hope and fear, endless possibilities._

Leliana was reading the tiny leather-bound book Sister Dorothea gave to her before she departed Lothering. She had no need to read the verses…she knew the Chant of Light by heart. But touching the pages made her feel less lonely.

She looked up from the small book, letting her eyes drift over each of her companions. They had set up a quick camp to get a few hours rest, but no one was sleeping. Sten was busy sharpening his massive blade, the small stone cupped in his large hand, each stroke long and deliberate. He was such a silent creature, but Leliana rather enjoyed his dependable, stoic presence. Tellux was busy licking his paws, likely as much to clean them as to soothe the ache after the long miles they traveled through the day. Leliana had never been a great fan of dogs, but Tellux often looked up at her with knowing eyes, and she was growing fond of the beast. Zevran was oiling his armor, occasionally making a clicking sound with his mouth when his fingers found a fault in it. Leliana noticed that the elf took special care of his boots and armor. She knew many street urchins in Orlais who were the same. The care he took of what little he had was a clear sign that he had known hardship.

Morrigan was staring at the stars, her wolf-like eyes shimmering in the darkness. She seemed deep in thought, as if she were working out a particularly complex problem. She was a beautiful woman, but had a coldness about her that Leliana found difficult to like. Roland was busily sketching in his small journal, a gift from one of the Dalish hunters. His normally serious expression was replaced by a thoughtful one as he rubbed the charcoal over the page, the delicate scribbles adding to the small sounds that filled the camp with life.

_In your heart shall burn an unquenchable flame, all-consuming, and never satisfied._

Leliana’s gaze drifted to the fire. Alistair and Elissa sat on opposite sides of the blaze, both of them staring into its depths without speaking. On the surface, it seemed a comfortable silence, but Leliana was a bard. She knew when things were left unsaid. Unspoken words always left a heavy imprint in the air, dragging everything towards them like ball of lead in a bed of silk.

Leliana put her book away, stretching her arms above her head. They left Redcliffe before dawn. Bann Teagan had seen them off, offering horses and supplies to speed their journey. He spoke to Elissa in a clipped, formal voice that she used in kind when answering him. Most of the knights had stood silently, staring at Elissa with distrustful eyes. It pained Leliana to see it. She saved their village, took back their castle, and exposed the corruption therein…yet she was the woman who almost forced a lady to die at the hands of a mage. It was controversial, to say the least.

_Those who oppose thee shall know the wrath of heaven._

Leliana sighed. She had remained in the main hall after Elissa’s judgment, too disturbed by the decision to really know what was happening. Isolde was allowed to go her private chapel, to pray and make her peace with the Maker. Bann Teagan and Morrigan spoke quietly with Jowen, discussing a possible alternative to the blood ritual. She was relieved when Morrigan went to discuss the idea with Elissa.

Elissa eventually returned, followed closely by Roland, who seemed more protective of her than usual. She agreed to the plan, offering Jowen the chance to atone for his crimes by protecting Connor while they were gone. Thus, they found themselves on the road to the Circle to petition the templars for mages and lyrium to save the boy.

Leliana prayed the templars would listen to reason. It was just as likely that they would send men to kill the boy and arrest Isolde. She wondered fleetingly if Elissa’s initial decision would have been better after all. It would have guaranteed the boy’s life, at least.

_Foul and corrupt are they who have taken His gift and turned it against His children._

Alistair was oddly silent throughout the day. Leliana had grown used to his constant chatter, and the absence of his cheerful voice made the long ride that much longer. Although relieved by their new course of action, he was obviously bothered by something. She noticed he kept his distance from Elissa, which was a new development. He usually used any excuse he could find to speak with her, his eyes often seeking her out when they made camp. But his eyes were presently glued to the fire, his eyebrows drawn down as if he were processing something painful.

_What was golden and pure, turned black._

Leliana sighed again.

She remembered the way the two Wardens held each other the night of Zathrian’s funeral. She hadn’t meant to interrupt them, and tried to leave quietly once she saw them. But the cursed twig had given her away before she could retreat. It was a shame…if she had left them alone, the two of them would have undoubtedly professed their feelings for one another.

She had hoped the two Wardens would rekindle what they shared in that moment, but they were either very discreet or something had changed between them. Alistair clearly cared for Elissa, although the noble woman was not as easy to read. Leliana shook her head. In her opinion, any sliver of light would be a blessing in the darkness that lay before them. Those two needed to figure out. There was little Leliana could do for them.

She saw Elissa stand, dusting off her breeches. She walked over to Alistair, a determined look on her face. He looked up at her, his expression a mixture of surprise and suspicion.

Her voice was oddly timid. “Will you walk with me?”

He grunted in response and stood, following her to the edge of camp.

Leliana smiled.

_The deep dark before dawn's first light seems eternal, but know that the sun always rises._

<<>>

Elissa was nervous. She was notoriously bad at apologizing, and really didn’t want to do it. When she was little, her father had demanded she apologize to one of her older cousins for calling him a name. The apology had ended with both of them standing in front of an angry Teryn…her with a busted lip, her cousin with a bruised eye.

She tried to calm down, but became more and more nervous as they walked away from camp. Alistair had not spoken one word to her since Redcliffe. She wasn’t sure which part of the previous evening’s events had him the most upset, and she dreaded talking about any of it.

Still, Roland was right. She needed to face the music.

She led him away from the others, until they stood together in the darkness of the trees. She could just make out his amber eyes in the moonlight. They looked at her suspiciously.

She cleared her throat. “I wanted to apologize to you.”

Alistair was not going to make it easy. “Oh? For what exactly? For refusing to listen to me? For threatening to kill me when I tried to make you see reason? Or maybe you want to apologize for sentencing a mother to die for protecting her son? Or how about for abusing the authority of a Grey Warden and condoning blood magic?”

Elissa crossed her arms. _This is pointless._ “You decide.”

Alistair crossed his own arms in return. “So this isn’t a real apology then? You just want me to start behaving myself, right?”

She shrugged. “I don’t have to apologize at all. I did nothing wrong.”

Alistair was flabbergasted. “Are you serious?”

“I am very serious. First off, I don’t _have_ to listen to you, Alistair. I am the leader in this group. Your opinion was noted and dismissed, which was my decision.”

“Bullshit! You wouldn’t even…”

“And the second offense...I said I would kill you if you grabbed me again and I meant it. Would you rather I simply attack you next time without fair warning?”

“The fact that you would even...”

Her voice was getting louder, cutting him off. “And in regards to Isolde, she volunteered for that fate to save her son. Would you rather I sentenced the boy to die instead?”

“No! But…”

“And the blood magic was risky, but again, it was my decision. You had no right to question me about it.”

“Blood magic is…”

“How we became Wardens, no? Don’t you remember the Joining? Our blood is linked to the darkspawn…you know that as well as I do. So don’t give me that _abusing the honor of the Grey Wardens_ crap!”

Alistair threw up his hands. “It doesn’t matter what I say, does it? You have an answer for everything. But you know what? That doesn’t mean that you are right!”

She raised her eyebrows. “No. It doesn’t. Which is why I apologized.”

He began to speak again, but hesitated. “Wait...what?”

She sighed. “I have no illusions that the things I did and said were...harsh. They probably were not even the best course of action. But do not mistake my apology for an omission of guilt, Alistair. I am the leader of this company. I have no room to either regret or lament my decisions, as difficult as they may be to bear. I am only sorry that you are upset by them. Hence my apology.”

“Because you want me to let it go?”

“No…because I want you to trust me.”

“Trust is just a word, Elissa, unless you earn it. I trusted you to make the right decision and you failed.”

“What would you have done in my place?”

“I don’t know but…”

She stepped towards him, grabbing the straps of his armor and standing on her tiptoes to look him directly in the eye. She tried to keep her voice level, but the bitterness was there. “Exactly! A leader must stand in a room full of people…people waiting for a judgment, for resolution, for the return of security and sanity. A leader is always alone in that moment, regardless of the army at their back, regardless of their position, their blood, or their rank. In that moment, when people look to _you_ to make it right, to fix things, you do not have the luxury of _I don’t know_.”

She let go of him, stepping back but still holding his eyes. She took a deep breath and continued. “If you wish to question me, I will listen. If you wish to offer advice, I will consider it. If you ever see a course of action preferable to my decision, I will always hear you out. But do not ever berate me for doing what needs to be done, Alistair. Not unless you have the courage to stand in my place.”

He stared her at for a long moment, a myriad of conflicting emotions passing across his features. She held her breath, waiting for his response, her stomach in knots.

_Don’t be my enemy, Alistair. Please…I don’t want that._

Finally, he dropped his eyes and sighed. “You’re right.”

She didn’t answer. She was too afraid to speak.

He let out a long breath. “You acted. You made a decision. I wouldn’t have known what to do. If not for Morrigan and Jowen, we wouldn’t even have _this_ plan, and I don’t even know if it is the right one.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to add to your burdens but…I just…I grew up there, Elissa. I never really considered it home, but…I hated seeing it like that.”

She spoke softly. “I know what that feels like, Alistair.”

He looked at her again. “I guess you do.”

She rubbed her temples. “I’ve seen what hubris and pride can make a person do. But Isolde was offering to atone for her mistake. Just like Sten offered to atone for his. And I agreed. And it would have been terrible, yes. But you must know…I did weigh the options, Alistair…though it may not have seemed like it at the time. It was her or the boy and I chose the boy’s life over hers. It was not easy.”

“I know. It’s just…after…”

“I was upset. I have never…condemned a person like that before. And it…”

“It what?

“It…hurt.”

He was thoughtful for a moment. “I didn’t ask…are you alright…after…you know...?”

She spoke quickly. “I’m fine. I am sorry you had to see that.”

“I feel like it was my fault, for pushing you…”

“No. It’s no one’s fault but my own. I hope it doesn’t…” She wasn’t sure how to finish.

_You have finally seen it. You know what I truly am.  
_

They stood quietly, looking at one another. Finally, Alistair spoke, his voice soft. “I don’t think differently of you, you know.”

She didn’t answer, not trusting the sound of her own voice.

He took a step towards her. “What I mean is…Elissa…I still…”

She interrupted him, backing up a step, trying to keep her voice light. “We better get back to camp, Alistair. We have a long ride tomorrow and we only have a few hours till dawn. We need all the sleep we can get.”

He cleared his throat, a tremor of disappointment crossing his features. “Alright.”

She walked away quickly, trying to outpace him, to put some distance between them. He had finally seen her lose control, and it relieved her that it didn’t bother him. But whatever he was going to say…it frightened her more than his censure.

_He is good. Kind, decent, good. I cannot be what he wants._

Her episode had made that clear. She needed to put some distance between them. Being alone with him, at night, in the forest…

_His lips were so warm._

She shook her head to get rid of the thought. Bann Teagan’s face drifted into her mind. The way he looked at her, when she told him to unhand her. It was the look of recognition, of pieces falling into place. He saw her, knew her in that moment. And he despised her.

She put her hands to her stomach, the knot there tightening. She couldn’t stop imagining that same look on Alistair’s face.

And it hurt.

<<>>

Teagan pulled her towards him, turning her arm and exposing the tender flesh of her wrist. He smiled, leaning down to grace it with a gentle kiss. She shivered. He pushed her sleeve up further, his fingers warm and soft against her skin. He kissed the crook of her arm, his stubble tickling her. A soft laugh escaped her lips.

He pulled her closer, his lips finding her neck, pulling down the fabric of her blouse to expose her shoulder. She tilted her head, enjoying the sensation of his breath against her skin. She murmured his name.

He leaned back, smiling at her. “You are extraordinary.”

She smiled back at him, reaching up to touch his face. Before she could touch him, however, something changed. He backed up a step, his eyes widening in fear.

“Teagan…what’s wrong?”

She reached out to him and he backed up another step. “Stay away from me, foul thing.”

She didn’t understand. She tried to move towards him, but her feet were trapped. She looked down, and saw the bodies at her feet. They were grey, their skin dead, flaking off of them like the bark of a birch tree. Their skeletal hands clung to her dress and their lifeless eyes stared up at her accusingly.

She looked to Teagan for help, but he had drawn his sword. He gritted his teeth.

“Unclean creature.”

She tried to move towards him, holding her hands up in supplication. But the dead held her, trapping her in a cage of bone. She reached down to disentangle herself, frantically pushing against the dead things. She saw that her hands were covered in blood. It was thick and warm, leaving streaks of red on the grey faces. She twisted, panic filling her, desperately looking for escape. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

Her skin was yellow. Dark black veins pulsated underneath the skin, crawling up her neck. Her eyes were black, and full of blood.

She tried to scream. Ash poured from her mouth instead of sound, filling the room. Her skin began flaking off, exposing her skull. The ash swirled around her.

She looked back to Teagan. His sword was raised above his head, his eyes wide with understanding. The ash from her mouth settled on his cheeks. He tilted his head, almost thoughtfully. “I know you.”

Then he rushed towards her. His mouth formed a single word before his blade found her.

She woke, clutching her chest. She was covered in sweat, the cool night air chilling her through the thin material of the tent. She bit her hand to stifle the scream.

_Monster._

Tellux whimpered beside her, shuffling over to place his head in her lap. He looked up at her, his deep brown eyes full of understanding. She reached down, stroking his brown fur, and waited for dawn.

<<>>

The qunari rode in silence.

He saw the great spire of the mage’s tower, its needle sharp point piercing the heavens.

He smelled the salty air of Lake Calanhad.

He followed the small woman down the dirt path, his chest constricting, his hands sweating.

The qunari remembered this place. His brothers died here. His soul was lost here.

The hound began whimpering at him.

The qunari made a gruff sound at the beast. The hound understood, and was silent.

The path finally brought them into the open, a broad field spreading out before them and sloping down towards the shore.

The qunari caught movement, a man in dirty rags bending down and sifting through the debris that littered the field. He saw the man pick up a skull, tossing it aside like it was nothing more than a stone.

The qunari clenched his teeth.

Tellux howled…and all hell broke loose.

 <<>>

“Sten! What are you doing?”

Sten had slid from his horse, as silent as death. The only reason Elissa noticed was because Tellux howled. The qunari had already lifted the man from the ground, his large hands wrapped around his neck like a vice. The man was kicking his feet, gasping for air, futilely beating his hands against the qunari’s arms.

Elissa jumped from her horse’s back, running to stop the crazy qunari from killing the man.

“Put him down!”

He ignored her, staring at the man with his strange purple eyes.

Elissa looked to others for aid, but they were all in various states of disbelief, still sitting on their horses. She looked at Tellux. “Do something!”

The mabari obeyed his mistress. He rushed forward and sank his teeth into Sten’s large calf.

“AAARRRG!” Sten flung the man aside like a rag doll, reaching back to draw his weapon. Elissa’s blade was at his throat before his fingers touched the pommel.

“You touch my dog, you will be one sorry giant.”

Tellux growled at the qunari. Roland and Alistair were finally down from their horses, approaching, warily.

Sten stared down her blade, meeting her eyes across the length of cold metal. “A qunari would not have hesitated.”

“I am not a qunari.”

“Indeed.”

Elissa kept her blade at his throat. “Why did you attack that man?”

“To teach him respect.”

“Respect for what?”

Sten crossed his arms. “Clearly you are as slow at using your eyes as you are your weapon.”

Elissa glanced down, noticing the bones and bits of metal that littered the field. “You knew these men.”

“They were not men.”

“These are qunari. You knew them?”

“They were my brothers. Now they are nothing.”

Elissa lowered her blade slowly. Sten stared at her impassively.

“You were their leader?”

“They were my brothers.”

She looked around. The ground was littered with large skulls, some qunari, some darkspawn, most of the flesh already scavenged by wolves. “What happened here?”

“We were attacked by darkspawn. We lost.”

Elissa looked at him shrewdly. “Why were you and your brothers here, Sten?”

He took a deep breath. “I told you, the antaam are the eyes, hands, and mouth of the qunari. We are how my people know the world.”

“Why the interest in Ferelden?”

“We came to answer a question.”

“What question?”

“What is the Blight?  It was for the Arishok to ask, and the antaam to answer.”

Elissa sheathed her blade. “You know the answer now. Why have you not returned to the Arishok?”

“I cannot go home.”

“Why not?”

He was silent.

“Answer me, Sten.”

He narrowed his eyes. “My words would mean nothing. I am soulless.”

She raised an eyebrow at that. “What do you mean, soulless?”

He took a deep breath. “My sword was lost here, on this battlefield. If I were to return home without it, I would be killed on sight. Without my blade, they would know me as soulless.”

Elissa was starting to understand. “That man…you think he stole your blade?”

“Him…or one like him.”

“And you didn’t think that questioning him would be a better use of your time than choking him?”

“There is no point. The blade is gone now.”

Elissa shook her head. “You know Sten, you could really benefit from thinking like a Ferelden now and again.”

"I doubt that."

She walked over to the man, still curled up the ground and rubbing his throat. He looked up at her. “That fucking giant tried to kill me!”

She knelt down to him. “I could let him finish that job, you know.”

“What? What did I do to you?”

“I am sure you have sins that deserve punishment. A scavenger amongst the dead? I cannot imagine you are an innocent.”

He stood, raising his hands. “Now, calm down. I am just a businessman, just doing what I need to do to get by. These dead giants aren’t missing anything I took.”

“So you admit to taking items from their bodies.” She heard Sten crack his knuckles.

The man glanced at him warily, then looked back to Elissa. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know! Just keep that thing away from me.”

“We are looking for a sword, one of these qunari blades.”

His sniffed. “Don’t know nuthin ‘bout that.”

“Alright. Sten, rip his arms off.” Sten moved towards the man.

He held up his hands. “Wait! I found a blade. A big one! A few weeks past.”

“Where is it now?”

“I sold it to a couple of brutes. Tattooed fellas who were passing through. Said their boss was a collector. A dwarf. Up in Redcliffe.”

Leliana spoke up. “Large men? One with red hair, the other missing an eye?”

“That’s them! Paid me a pittance for it, but it was better than hanging onto it. Huge thing, it was.”

Leliana smiled at Sten. “I believe we met those men in Redcliffe, Sten. Dwyn’s bodyguards. They survived the battle. It is possible that Dwyn has your sword.”

Sten did not blink.

Elissa sighed. “All the more reason to get to the tower and get back to Redcliffe as soon as we can.”

The scavenger spoke up. “The tower? Ha! Good luck with that!”

“What do you mean?”

“The mages went crazy! Tower is locked up tight as a drum. Templars rode towards Denerim this morning. I reckon they’re gonna light that place up like a candle.”

Elissa motioned to the others to mount their horses, leaving the scavenger to his field of bones. Something was happening at the tower, and it did not bode well for their mission.

As they rode away, she heard the scavenger muttering to himself. “Yup. Like a candle. None too soon, if you ask me.”


	24. Monsters and Mages

Alistair couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Elissa was speaking to the Knight Commander. The main hall of the Circle tower was enormous, the high ceilings echoing the heavy footfalls of the templars rushing around them. Alistair noticed how exhausted they all looked.

He had never been in a Circle tower before, despite his training as a templar. He felt oddly uncomfortable, as if the men would take one look at him and know he was almost one of them, that they would see him as a betrayer. But no one spoke to him.

Knight Commander Greagoir stood before them, his templar armor polished to a high sheen, his peppered grey hair sticking up in places where he had been running his hands through it. He repeated the same words as when they first arrived. “The tower has fallen. I have sent to Denerim for the Right of Annulment. There is nothing more to discuss.”

Elissa threw her hands up in frustration. “But there may still be mages in there that have not fallen! And possibly other templars. You’ve locked them all in there, innocents and blood mages alike!”

“My men know their duty. If a tower falls to blood magic, rebellion, or demonic possession, it must be destroyed. There is no turning back once the Rite is begun.”

Elissa clenched her jaw. “How much time is left?”

“As soon the couriers bring official word from Denerim, we will begin the Rite. My men rode for Denerim this morning, and I expect word by tomorrow morning at the latest.”

Elissa looked back at Alistair. She looked determined. He had an idea what she wanted to do. It was dangerous…but it was the only hope they had for saving Connor. He nodded in agreement.

She turned back to the Commander. “We need mages for the Blight.”

Commander Greagoir looked at her suspiciously. “There are other Circles in Ferelden, Grey Warden. Why are you so determined to acquire mages from Kinloch?”

Alistair held his breath. If Elissa admitted what was happening with Connor, the templars would send men immediately to destroy him. He gripped the pommel of his sword. _She needs to be careful here. I hope she realizes that._

Elissa crossed her arms. “Everyone know the mages of Kinloch are the most experienced in Thedas. It is why King Cailan requested their aid at Ostagar. And you said yourself that you have mages here that survived the battle. They know better than anyone what is at stake. It is vital to the safety of this realm that I be allowed to use them.”

“As I said before, the tower has fallen.”

“It has not fallen yet. And I have the authority as a Grey Warden to enter the tower.”

Greagoir shrugged. “You are indeed within your right, Grey Warden. But I cannot give you mages when I have none. And I cannot spare my own men when they are trying to contain this madness. There is no one here for you to conscript.”

“Then allow me to offer aid.”

“What do you mean?”

“I will enter the tower and look for survivors. If any are left alive in there, I will use them as I see fit.”

Alistair hands started sweating.

“A rescue mission? Are you completely mad? You are not trained to deal with magic. And I will not send any of my men to accompany you.”

“I do not need them. My companions and I are more capable than we appear. My fellow Grey Warden has had templar training.”

Greagoir eyed Alistair suspiciously. “It takes more than training to deal with what is behind those doors, Warden. There are abominations in the tower, set loose by foolish blood mages who gave no thought to the outcome of their rebellion. The risk is too great.”

“Risk is my trade, Knight Commander. You cannot deny me the chance to save those that remain.”

Greagoir sighed. “Very well. I have no time to argue with you. But I will not stop the Rite unless you bring me the First Enchanter, alive and well. He is the only one I trust to assure the survivors have not been corrupted. Without his support, I will destroy the Circle and any who are within these walls. That includes you and your companions.”

“I understand.”

“I don’t think you do. Blood mages can control your mind. Abominations are blood mages that are possessed by demons, and are thus extremely powerful at mind control. Once you enter those doors, I cannot allow you to return unless you have the First Enchanter with you. And it is very likely he is already dead. There is strong possibility that you are signing your own death warrant, Warden.”

“Regardless…I will not be persuaded to desist.”

Greagoir looked at her a long moment. He sighed loudly, and motioned for one of his men to open the door to the tower. “Then may the Maker watch over you.”

<<>>

Wynne was exhausted.

The children were huddled in a far corner of the room. Andrea, Wynne’s apprentice, was doing her best to keep them calm, but it was obvious they were terrified. She heard one of them speak.

“Why won’t the templars open the door, Andrea?”

“Shhh. They are trying to deal with a little problem. That is all. They will let us out soon.”

“Did you see Sheila’s eyes? She looked scary.”

“Yes…Sheila was…not feeling well.”

“She tried to hurt Wynne. Is she dead?”

“Don’t worry about any of that now. Wynne will protect us. We are safe.”

Wynne sighed. It had hurt her deeply to slay Sheila, especially in front of the children. She had trained the young mage personally, many years ago. To see her fall to blood magic, to turn on them in such a way…it was heartbreaking.

_To think, I trained as a healer because I abhor fighting. And now I slay my fellow mages to protect the innocent. The Maker has a cruel sense of humor._

Wynne heard a commotion in the eastern hall and turned towards it. She saw a group of warriors approaching, weapons drawn. She motioned to the others and lifted her staff.

“Stay back! If you attempt to harm any of us, I will kill you where you stand!”

Alistair snickered. “Now we are being threatened by frail old ladies? Wonderful.”

Wynne cast a beam of energy through her staff, focusing it on the young man’s sword. He dropped the weapon, calling out in surprise. 

“It seems I am not as frail as you first thought, young man.”

The young woman who led the group sheathed her weapons, holding her hands up. “We do not wish to harm you, mage. We were sent by Greagoir to find the First Enchanter.”

“Lies. The templars have barred the door.”

“I am a Grey Warden. You’d be surprised at how many doors I can open.”

“The Grey Wardens died at Ostagar. I was there.”

“So were we. I am Elissandre Cousland, and this is Alistair. We were in the Tower of Ishal during the battle, trapped by darkspawn. We survived, and are trying to gain allies against the Blight.”

Wynne looked at her closely. She did not seem to be lying. “I am Wynne, the senior enchanter of those remaining in this madness. Who are the rest of your companions?”

“This is Sten, a qunari warrior who hates the darkspawn as much as we do."

Sten spoke up. "I am also not fond of mages."

Elissa continued. "This Leliana and Zevran, an Orlesian and an Antivan, if that matters. Roland is a Highever knight. And Morrigan is…well…”

Morrigan spoke up, looking at the old mage with disdain. “A _free_ mage.”

Wynne took a sharp breath in. “Greagoir would never let an apostate in here.”

Morrigan smiled. “Your precious templar captain is a bit overwhelmed dealing with his rebellious captives. He barely noticed me at all. He has called for the Rite of Annulment to slaughter you all like cattle. I imagine you wish now that you had the courage to be an apostate like me.”

Wynne lowered her staff. “The Rite of Annulment? So we are to be destroyed?” He shoulders sagged. _It is as I feared._

Elissa spoke up. “What happened here? How did the tower come to this sorry state?”

Wynne shook her head in disgust. “Uldred led the rebellion. He is on the mage council and has always been a vocal supporter of more freedom for the Circle mages. He gathered support, slowly and carefully over the past few months. We had no idea the following he had accumulated. Many of the senior mages, such as myself, came back from Ostagar, weary from battle. He took the opportunity to raise his followers. They used blood magic to dominate the mind of the templar guards and overpower them. Many of his mages were too weak to control the blood magic and have been possessed by demons, turned into abominations. They are almost unstoppable. I gathered as many innocents as I could and we are sealed in this room, waiting to be set free.”

“Greagoir will not open the gates unless I bring him the First Enchanter.”

Wynne nodded, slowly. “Irving went to face Uldred. But I am sure he is outnumbered. The mind control of the blood mages can be counteracted, which may allow us to rescue him. But I need to gain access to his quarters and find the Litany of Adralla. It is our only chance.”

Elissa rubbed her temples. “We need to get to him as soon as possible, before the templars destroy us all. The tower is enormous and overrun by these mages. We should split up. Leliana, Zevran, and Sten, go with Wynne and find this Litany. The rest of us will try to find Uldred. I have a feeling the First Enchanter is with him.”

Wynne was conflicted. “I cannot leave the children here.”

Andrea spoke up. “Go with them, Wynne. I can protect the children. You taught me enough to do that, I think.” Wynne smiled at the young mage.

Elissa turned to her mabari. “Tellux, you stay here as well. Let nothing harm the little ones, do you understand?”

Tellux barked, running over to the group of children. They immediately began petting him. It was odd to hear their laughter with so much fear in the air.

Wynne looked at them sadly. “They have never seen a dog before.” She sighed, looking at Elissa. “Why are you helping us?"

The girl let out a long breath. "There is a mage child In Redcliffe that has made a deal with a demon.  It is beyond important that we break the demon's hold on him. His father has an army we desperately need for the Blight. Without the help of the mages, our only other option is blood magic. Honestly, after hearing about what happened here, I would rather not resort to that unless we must."

Wynne nodded solemnly. "We must hurry then, Warden. For their sakes and for yours.”

Elissa nodded. “Let’s work quickly, then. Time is short.”

The group gathered near the entryway to the tower. They all held their breath as they entered Kinloch.

<<>>

 The garden was oddly quiet.

Elissa gripped her blades, trying to ignore the fear in her stomach. He often hid from her like this. She would not let him take her by surprise.

She closed her eyes, listening. She heard a subtle shift in the air around her, as if it were suddenly full where before it was empty. She heard the sound of his staff cut through the air and brought her blade up to block it.

She opened her eyes. Vanithan’s cool grey eyes stared back at her through their crossed weapons.

“You have improved, child.”

His lip twitched slightly and he turned, his staff spinning low to take out her legs. She jumped, avoiding the staff and stepping around him to bring her blade to his throat. He jerked his body, shifting away from her, his staff coming up to slam against her wrist. She kept hold of the blade, despite the throbbing pain, and started circling her blades around her body in wide arcs.

“You are no mere pupil any longer. You have grown.”

Vanithan began twirling his own staff. Both warriors moved around each warily, looking for a weakness.

Elissa stepped first, confident of a break in his defenses. She was fooled however, and knew it as soon as she saw his eyes. He brought his staff down hard against her back. The wind was knocked from her, and she felt the staff under chin. She opened her eyes, breathing heavily.

Vanithan raised his eyebrows, his eyes twinkling.

“Yet, you still have much to learn.”

She grunted. “Perhaps that is your fault as much as mine.”

The old Antivan laughed. He pulled back on his staff and motioned for her to sit.

“You cannot yet best me at arms. But there is still good news.” He sat on his stool, facing her.

“Oh? You’ve never given me good news before, Vanithan.”

The Antivan shrugged. “It is not my place to do so. But you need to know. I have watched you closely over the past few years. I believe you have finally beaten the darkness.”

Elissa was shocked. “But you said…that it was part of my mind!”

“Yes! Of course I did. You needed to take it seriously, to have that sense of hopelessness instilled in you. It helped you access the part of yourself necessary to defeat it. And you have won.”

“You mean…it will never take me again?”

“Never. You are finally free, child.” The Antivan smiled again. “Imagine the possibilities of your life now! You can travel wherever you wish. Perhaps you and I can travel to Antiva. Or you and Oriana can go to Rivain. I have often heard the two of you discuss it.”

Something felt wrong. _Oriana…green eyes…praying…her voice full of fear…soothing words…flaming swords…_

“Oriana…she…was hurt…”

Vanithan looked surprised. “What do you mean? I saw her just this morning. She and her son were watching Fergus in the practice yard.”

Elissa was confused. “There was blood…on the sheets…”

“I think you have trained too much for one day. This revelation is exciting you, and that is to be excepted. You should go find your mother and tell her the good news. She will be so happy. To know you have beaten the darkness at last.”

Elissa could hear her mother’s voice. _It is part of who you are._

She looked up at the old tutor. His eyes were vibrant and cool, the same as always. The wrinkles on his face like deep scratches, the subtle limp as he walked. It was him.

_But he is smiling. Vanithan never smiles._

She shook her head. “This is wrong. I remember. Blood. Bubbling from lips. And my mother, kneeling…”

“It is your mind that is exhausted, from fighting this curse. You are free from it now. Dwell on it no longer.”

She looked around her. The garden was too quiet. There were no insects, no birds. She looked up at the sky, but there was no color. It was…empty.

She stood slowly, eying her master with suspicion. “You say I have beaten the darkness?”

“Yes child. You know I do not lie.”

“Why am I still full of pain? Something…weighs on my thoughts. Heavy. Like…dread.”

“You need to rest, child. You need to sleep.”

She could hear a woman’s voice, somewhere in the back of her mind. _We cannot sleep. We must stay awake. We must fight it!_

Who was she? Elissa could see eyes, wolf-like and unsettling. But she could not make the voice and the eyes match up.

Vanithan was walking towards her. "Trust me child. You need rest.”

His voice was persuasive. It would be nice to sleep, to rest. She had worked so hard, for so many years, to fight the darkness in her mind. And she was finally free. Vanithan was right. She should relax, enjoy it.

But he had always taught her to remain vigilant.  Rest was not an option. Something was wrong, but Elissa couldn't seem to figure it out. She closed her eyes.

_Hands gripping grass…I will make him eat his heart….oily voice, full of disdain…mother rocking his tiny body…mother…her vow…never leave him…his eyes, amber, staring at me, the fire burning…screaming…holding my hand…talk to me…hand on my arm…you are extraordinary…for my son…Fergus…I am sorry…_

She opened her eyes and backed up a step. “You are not Vanithan, are you?”

The Antivan smiled again. The smile was all wrong. It did not fit into the lines of his face properly. _Because I have never seen him smile. I don’t know what it should look like._

“You have no need to fight anymore. Not here. You never need to fear the darkness again. You can be truly free.”

_Old woman…Wynne...strength in her eyes…defeat the mages…find a way out…trapped…tower…room with a demon…sleep…he made us sleep…trapped...Roland…Alistair…Morrigan…we are asleep…we are in the Fade…we are in the tower…we are in between…this creature means to keep us here…forever…_

She drew her blades. “Your words are lies, demon. You are not Vanithan. And I will not be your prisoner.”

Vanithan laughed. “You are a fool, Lady Cousland. There is no escape from this place. Enjoy the visions I create for you. There is nowhere for you to run. You are mine.”

Elissa turned from the creature and ran. Its laughter followed her.

   <<>>

Elissa held her breath. The scene before her was too familiar, too perfect. The grasses above Highever brushed her legs as she walked through them, the smell of honeysuckle and lavender tickling her nostrils, the hum of dragonflies all around her. She was home.

The demon was near. She could feel it, a heavy presence pulling the strings of the image around her. She would not give it the pleasure of knowing its effect on her.

“This is not my home, demon.”

His voice was all around her. “No? Perhaps you are correct. But this scene is not for you, Lady Cousland. This dreamscape belongs to another.”

Elissa felt the hairs on her arms stand up. Only one other person would be here, of all places. She walked quickly, navigating her way through the grasses, looking for him. As she neared their spot on the hill, she saw him, sitting with his back to her, looking out over Highever.  

“Look at him,” the demon whispered. “Look at your knight.”

Roland was sitting in the grass, his large back hunched over. Elissa finally made her way to him, parting the grass as she approached. She called his name, but he did not turn.

The demon spoke, his voice echoing in the stillness. “You are merely a watcher here, mortal. He is ours.”

She walked around him, noting the pile of branches next to him. Blackberry blossoms. She realized he was weaving the small white flowers together into a crown. His fingers were nimble, avoiding the thorns on the stems, careful not to smash the delicate petals as he knotted and braided the stems together. She remembered watching him do this when they were children, and was always fascinated by how intricate his creations were. His large hands had lost none of that childhood ability. His brows were knotted in concentration as he worked, yet he was more serene than she had seen him in many years.

He was happy.

Elissa felt a strange lump form in her throat.

A young girl came running up to him, her blond hair in plaits on each side of her head, although one of the braids was coming loose. A mabari pup was with her, happily chasing after her heels. She plopped down beside Roland unceremoniously.

Elissa took a sharp breath in. She realized the little girl was her.

“Is it almost finished?”

“Almost, my lady.”

“A queen can’t rule without a crown, Roland. You must hurry.”

“You could learn to make these for yourself, you know. I could teach you.”

“They always look silly when I do it. Plus…I don’t like the thorns.”

Roland smiled, continuing his task. The little girl stood, and placed her hands on her hips. She was watching him, her lack of patience clear on her young face. She reached down occasionally to scratch her mabari’s head.

The demon laughed. “These memories of you…they are part of him. And now, they are part of us.”

“They do not belong to you, demon. You have no right to them.”

The demon laughed again. “Look at how careful he is! He wants it to be perfect. Because you asked him for it. Because he enjoys making you happy, giving you something special. He cherishes this part of you…this stubborn, thankless little girl. A part of him will always see you this way. It is almost too easy to pull this image from his mind. It is white and bright, like the little flowers in his hands.”

“Is it ready?” The girl crouched down in front of him, ready for her prize. Roland nodded and brought the crown up for her approval. She smiled and leaned forward so he could place it carefully on her head.

“How does it look, Roland?”

“You look like a true queen, my lady.”

The girl laughed, clapping her hands. “The queen of wild things!” She stood, grabbing his hands and pulling him up from the ground. He looked down at her, smiling indulgently as she spun around.

She put her hands on her hips again. “You are my servant, Roland. I command you to follow me!”

She ran off into the tall grass, Tellux chasing after her. Roland ran after them, chasing her through the blackberry thicket on the hillside. She was laughing, running from the tall knight, occasionally turning around to stick her tongue out at him. His shirt would occasionally snag one of the thorns, and he would curse and try to get loose without ripping it, and she would laugh and taunt him.

After a few moments, the little girl disappeared behind one of the bushes. Roland slowed down, a confused look passing over his features.

“My lady? Where are you?”

Only the wind answered him.

The demon spoke again. “His memories of you are strong, but they are only memories. We need something more. Something closer to him. Something secret. Something…hidden.”

Elissa felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. “Leave him alone, demon!”

Roland continued walking through the shrubbery, occasionally calling for her. The wind picked up and his red hair whipped around his head. The sky darkened, a deep blue streaked with the red ribbons of sunset.

He called for her again. The answer came from behind him. “I am here, Roland.”

He turned, his eyes widening. Elissa turned with him, and saw herself coming towards them. She wore a dress of red silk, the neck plunging to a deep v-line between her breasts, the thin fabric barely concealing her shape. Her sleeves were long and flowing, waving in the wind and brushing the tips of the tall grass that surrounded her. Her hair was down, brushing against her neck and shoulders in soft waves. The red dress billowed around her and her yellow hair lifted in the wind. She looked like she was made of fire.  

She stared at Roland, her eyes midnight blue, the color of the sky.

The demon spoke again. “Here is the woman he desires, in the secret burning part of himself. He aches for you. It is wonderful! I can almost taste his desire for you!”

Elissa tried to get his attention. “Roland! Look at me!”

The demon laughed. “He cannot hear you. His lust is stronger than your words.”

Roland looked at the woman questioningly. “My lady?”

She smiled at him. “Call me Elissa, Roland.” She walked towards him, her hips swaying provocatively, her tongue flicking out to touch her upper lip. When she reached him, she grabbed his hands, placing them firmly on her hips. “Say my name, Roland. I want to hear you say it.”

Roland’s eyes softened, and he pulled her closer, his voice husky. “Elissa.”

She smiled, nodding her head once. She reached up and traced her fingers over his lips. “I have always wanted you, Roland.”

His hands gripped her hips. He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes as she traced her fingers along his chest. She tilted her head and brushed her lips against his. He trembled slightly, and she spoke against his lips. “I am yours.”

He kissed her suddenly, his hands pulling her against him, moving across her hips to her lower back. His kisses were full of longing, an aching sound escaping his throat. Elissa shivered, watching the display, mesmerized by how much he wanted her. Despite herself, she could feel a strange ache between her legs. A part of her wanted to be there with him, to be the one he was touching.

The demon laughed again, and she fought to control her emotions. She would not give it the satisfaction of knowing how unsettling the scene was to her.

Roland’s lips traveled from her lips to her chin, and began moving down her neck. She arched her body to allow him access and ran her fingers through his hair. One of his hands found its way to her shoulder, pulling the fabric down her arms, his lips tracing her collarbone.

He whispered against her shoulder. “I have dreamed of this.”

The red woman smiled, her hand reaching down to brush against his crotch. “I know.”

Elissa pleaded with the demon. “Do not do this to him!”

The demon sounded genuinely surprised. “Why not? I thought you would approve, Lady Cousland. You secretly enjoy his desire for you. You use it to control him, to keep him by your side. The hint of a future with you, the dream that you may one day give your love to him. It is how you make him do your bidding, is it not?”

“That’s not true! I would never…”

“Ahh, but you would! You do. You have never rejected him outright, have you?”

Elissa felt her cheeks burn at the implication. “I do not have to explain myself to you, demon.”

The demon laughed at her. “He harbors this desire and you know it. You have always known it. You thrive off of it, like a leech stuck to the skin of its host. You feed as I feed. You know he will want you, even if you do not return his affection. It tickles your pride. You toy with his love for you. You are no better than me, Lady Cousland.”

“Please. Please stop!”

The wind shifted, the sky darkening slightly, bringing a chill to the air. “Perhaps you are right. This version of you, it is in his mind. It is powerful. His need is raw…but it is not _real_. He has other, more potent feelings for me to feed upon. Delectable pain.”

The woman in red pulled back from him, smiling. He reached out towards her, but she backed away from him. The sky turned dark, and a bolt of lightning flashed along the sky. Roland looked up, his hand raised to block out the blinding light. When he looked back towards her, she was gone. He looked around, trying to find her as the rain began to fall.

“His sense of duty, to you and your family. That is much more powerful than his lust. Let us see what we can do with that.”

A new Elissa approached him through the rain, her steps strong and determined. Her hair was pulled up in a tight braid that circled her head like a crown, pulling her features into sharp lines. She wore Highever armor, silver and gleaming, the laurel wreath etched in gold into the breastplate. Her father’s sword hung at her side, its long blade glinting in the storm light. Her face was as pale as death, her eyes as black as the darkening sky. Her pose was regal, her hand resting on the hilt of the sword, lips pressed into a hard line, head arched up to look down at him. The lightening streaked across the sky again and her silver armor reflected it. She was ethereal, a creature beyond mere flesh. A warrior. A leader.

Roland fell to his knees before her, his voice almost reverent. “My lady.”

Her voice was cold and formal. There was no warmth, only command. “Who do you serve, knight?”

Roland bowed his head. “I serve the Couslands, my lady. I serve you and yours. With my life.”

“Your life belongs to me knight. I hold it in my hands. I can do with it as I see fit.”

“Yes, my lady.”

The demon sighed in appreciation, and it sounded strangely sensual. It was pleased. “Yes! Here it is! If only you could feel it as I do, mortal. This is no mere memory he clings to. This is no secret desire, buried in his heart. No! This is you, what you truly are. This is what consumes him, running through his veins like a blue current of energy. His duty to you. His vows. His shame for failing you. These burn in him more brightly than any other emotion. _This_ , I can work with.”

Elissa ran towards Roland, dropping to her knees beside him. “Roland, do not listen to this thing. It is not me!”

Roland could not hear her. He shivered as the rain picked up and fell on his large shoulders, soaking his shirt. The regal woman stepped closer to him, towering above him. “You failed me, knight. You failed the Couslands. Your life is nothing.”

Roland closed his eyes, bowing his head. Elissa bent down with him, but he could not see her. His voice was full of agony. “Please, my lady. I beg your forgiveness. I ask for the chance to atone. I will not fail you again.”

The lady laughed. It was cold and empty. “You dare ask for my forgiveness? You, who failed to protect Highever? Who ran from my mother’s side? And for what? To chase after me? You are a disgrace to the very vows you swore to my father!”

“Stop! Roland, do not listen to her!” Elissa grabbed his shoulders, but he did not budge. He could not hear her. He could not feel her.

The lady drew her sword, the sound cutting through the rain. Roland looked up at the sound and his eyes locked on the ancient blade. “You are not fit to wield the blade of my forbears, knight. You must atone.”

His face registered shock, then understanding. His voice was quiet. “You wish me to take my own life, Elissa? Is that what you ask of me?”

The lady stared at him. Her dark eyes held no pity. Elissa trembled to see this side of herself. Relentless. Unforgiving. “I do not wish it. I command it. Blood for blood, knight. That is what you owe me. That is the debt you must pay.”

Roland stood slowly, meeting her eyes. He looked at her solemnly. “I will do as you command. I will do this to regain my honor.”

The lady handed him her sword. When he touched it, she spat on the ground at his feet. “That is what your honor is worth to me, knight. End this farce. Atone.”

Elissa stood, pacing frantically, yelling at sky. “Please! Make it stop!”

The demon laughed, madly this time, its laughter booming across the valley, mixing with the sound of the thunder. Roland did not even blink.

The rain lashed down upon them, the wind ripping through the grass that surrounded them. Roland took a deep breath, grasping the sword. He looked at the warrior for a long moment, and her eyes remained cold. They held no pity. They judged him without mercy.

He straightened his shoulders and then turned the sword upon himself.

Elissa screamed and lightening tore through the sky.

Roland placed the tip of the sword to his heart. He gripped the pommel with both hands, his arms outstretched, ready to plunge the blade into his chest.

Elissa’s heartbeat pounded in her ears. Her blood boiled. The world started to shimmer around her.

She could see the door before her, rimmed with light, the door that Vanithan had trained her to find. It stood in the middle of the Fade, between her and the terrible scene.

The demon hissed. “What is this? What have you done?”

Elissa ignored the voice. Without thinking, she threw herself towards the door.

The demon screamed, shaking the heavens.

When she fell through, she heard Roland call out in surprise. She was lying on the ground between him and the desire demon. Her presence destroyed the façade immediately, the demon’s true form displacing the skin it wore. Roland dropped the sword in confusion, and Elissa wasted no time. She picked up the massive blade and stood quickly. The demon held its hands up in surrender, but Elissa had no time for pity. She removed the demon’s head in one swift slice. It fell to the ground in a heap, the armor and sword both disappearing as its body turned to smoke.

She turned to Roland. “Roland, are you alright?”

He stared at her. The pain in his eyes made her breath catch. It was almost too much to bear, seeing firsthand the intense longing he had for her, and the terrible price he would pay for her forgiveness.

It made her hate herself.

She reached out to touch his shoulder. “Roland?”

He backed away from her, his eyes full of suspicion.

“Roland, it is me.”

His voice was full anger. “I see that.”

She took a deep breath. “Listen to me…’

He crossed his arms. “I always do, don’t I? What do you want this time? Is my life not enough?”

His words stung, but she pressed ahead. “Listen to me, Roland. We are in the Fade. None of this is real.”

Roland ran his hands through his wet hair. He looked around the valley. “This…this is Highever.”

“No. It is an illusion. They were using images of me to upset you, pulling pieces of me from your mind to break you”

“Images? It wasn’t you?” He seemed to calm down somewhat, speaking to himself. “ _You_ weren’t real.”

Elissa looked at him closely. He still looked angry and confused. She wasn’t sure if he understood. “Roland… _none_ of this is real.”

“From my mind. The demons created this place from my mind.”

“Yes.”

He looked at her. “Look at it, Elissa. Really look at it.”

She looked around her. She had to admit, the illusion was stronger than her own had been. Everything was vibrant. The storm clouds were passing, a soft blue peeking out from the heavy grey. There were drops of rain, some falling, some left behind on every blade of grass. The ground was soggy, soaking up the moisture, and the wind carried the scent of the ocean, like it always did when the wind came in from the north. It did seem real.

She looked back at him. He was staring at her, waiting for her response. He looked angry.

She spoke slowly. “Roland…I admit, it does look like Highever. But I swear to you, this is the Fade.”

He ran his hands through his hair again, a disgusted look passing over his features. “I know this is the Fade. I knew it the moment you fell out of thin air…that this was a dream. That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what…?”

“Look at it!” He started pacing, gripping the tall grass with is hands. “Look at how perfect it is. And it is from my mind.”

“Roland…I don’t…”

“Every blade of grass. The smell, the taste of the air. Every piece of it is perfect. And this place means nothing to me without you in it. It never did, Elissa.”

“What do you…?”

He stopped pacing. “Don’t you understand? All of this detail but you…you were…incomplete. Confusing. It was painful but at the same time I felt…I felt empty when confronted with thoughts of you. Like I was watching a play of myself. Like I am the least real thing in this place.”

“Roland…that’s not what this means! It is an illusion…imperfect, flawed by its very nature.”

“No. The flaw is not in the illusion. The flaw is in my head.” His voice was full of pain, and Elissa wasn’t sure what to do. “My mind…full of you…and not knowing…not understanding…” He looked at her seriously. “I am just a fool.”

Their surroundings started to flicker. The mirage was disintegrating, the rain letting up. Elissa knew she had to get them out of here, before the demon figured out what she had done. In all truth, she had no idea what had actually happened. Somehow the darkness had allowed her to bypass the demon’s control over her and over Roland. She had no idea how long it would last, nor if it would even work again. She needed to find Morrigan, to see if the witch could figure out what it meant before they all died in this nightmare.

Roland was staring at her.

She spoke. “Roland, I know this is troubling for you. It was…difficult for me to watch it all. But we need to find Alistair and Morrigan. We need to escape this place while we have the chance!”

He took a sharp breath in. “You saw it? All of it?”

“Yes, but…”

He threw up his hands, his anger returning. “I can’t do this anymore. I did not ask to be what I am.”

“I know that! Roland, I don’t judge you for…what I saw. Please, believe me.”

He laughed. She was surprised at his response. “Don’t you think I know that? That’s not the point! But I judge myself. My own…ignorance…it blinds me. I feel like something is missing. Like I am not…a whole person. Flawed. Incomplete. Like all of this.”

“There is nothing wrong with…”

He interrupted her, his blue eyes burning into hers, his brows knotted in frustration. “What I’m saying is…I don’t understand what we are to each other, and it is eating me up inside. Can’t you see that?”

She held her breath. She realized where this was going and she was terrified.

_I am not ready to talk about this. Not now._

He straightened his shoulders. “I can’t keep doing this. Following you around, watching you and keeping my distance, keeping my mouth shut and holding everything that I am inside…just waiting for you to tell me what you want from me. I have done it for years. I can’t do it anymore. I deserve an answer.”

“Roland, it’s not that simple!”

“Yes it is. You complicate it to either hide from it or deny it…or to spare my feelings. And that is unworthy of you.” He took a deep breath. “You know what I feel for you. Do you feel the same or not?”

_And here it is._

It was the question that had been hanging in the air between them, unspoken and unanswered for years. She was no fool and neither was he.

_Do you love me?_

Being Elissandre Cousland made everything simple. It was the excuse that kept her from examining her feelings for him. But everything had changed, and they both knew it. As a Grey Warden, she had no official claims to her title, aside from throwing it around when it suited her purposes. Highever was gone. And even if it were not, she was no longer considered nobility. She was no longer bound to that station. She was free to choose a lover, if she wanted one. She was free to return his love.

_Do I love him?_

The demon’s words floated into her mind. _You toy with his love for you. You are no better than me, Lady Cousland._

She shook her head. _No, that cannot be who I am._

But wasn’t she? Had she not been raised to always protect herself, to wear her mask? Trained to control the darkness, rumors of her illness hushed up and stored away, her father lying to Teagan to secure a match of her, her mother manipulating Brandon to keep him from damaging her reputation. The Couslands…protecting themselves at the expense of others.

It all made her sick. It made her angry. And if the demon was right, if she truly did use Roland’s feelings to keep his loyalty, to keep him bound to her…is that who she wanted to be?

_You feed as I feed._

She looked at Roland, his blue eyes mirroring the frustration she felt. He was her friend, her only true friend now that Oriana was dead. She did not want to lose him, or the closeness they had so recently found again. And she couldn’t deny how he made her feel.

And yet…she was changing. Everything she had ever been was called into question now. Her emotions seemed to change by the hour, her hatred for Howe all but consuming her. And the taint…she didn’t fully understand what it was doing to her, but her dreams had been so vivid since the Joining. What if she was more of a monster now than before? What if the taint made it more difficult for her to control the darkness? She felt…unstable, on edge. She was terrified of what was happening to her.

And Alistair. There was something sweet and earnest in him that made the terrible pain in her seem smaller when he was near. She pushed him away again and again, but…it was becoming more difficult to do so.

Nothing was the same. And she could not go back.

She tried to evade the question. “I want you to help me escape this nightmare. And then…I want you to stand with me against the Blight. Can’t that be enough for now?”

He shook his head. “Don’t dance around this. Please don’t do that. You know what I am asking you.”

His stubbornness was there, as it always was. He would not relent. He wanted an answer and in truth, he deserved some kind of closure. She owed him that, after all he done for her.

_I cannot make a promise to him. Not now. It is not fair to him, or me._

She took a deep breath. She turned her head, looking out over the grass. She drew strength from seeing Highever again, even if it was nothing more than a mirage. “I care for you, Roland. But I cannot…I cannot be anything else for you. Nor…nor am I inclined to give you anything more. Not now. I am sorry to cause you pain, but you deserve the truth from me.”

She turned to him. He was staring at her with an unreadable expression.

She faltered for a moment. A memory flashed into her mind. A sailor, a burly man with a red beard, telling stories. He had a booming voice and a raspy laugh, and Elissa loved to listen to his tales. He was a guest of Bann Ellis, their cousin in the East. She remembered sitting by the fire, on her father’s lap, as the man told them stories of his adventures. He had sailed the farthest reaches of the ocean around Thedas. He told them how, at the southern extent, ice floated on the water. Large, blue masses of floating ice that glowed in the darkness and shimmered in the sun. He said they were so large, that they could rip a boat in half. He said the ice sang in the stillness, a lonesome, groaning sound that echoed the voice of the whales in the deep ocean. When they calved into the water, that song turned into a scream. First a deep creaking sound, almost as if the ice were in pain. Then, a rumbling, aching sound that echoed in the stillness. Then a rip that shook the very ocean, and a great crash as it fell into the deep water, waves shooting out from its wake.

The sound of being ripped apart.

She continued, her voice shaking. “I need to know I can count on you to do your duty. But I do not ask…I mean…I do not _want_ anything more than that. I am sorry.”

He looked at her a long moment. His eyes betrayed little of what he was feeling, and she was glad of that. She didn’t want to see the pain she was causing him.

He nodded once, his voice distant but firm. “As you wish, my lady.”

She wanted to say something, offer some sort of explanation. But there was nothing more to say.

He spoke again, seeming to sense her thoughts. “I will not abandon my vows, Elissa. You have my word. Lead, and I will follow.”

She nodded and turned from him quickly, walking through the grass to find some way out of this place. As she watched the broad fields disappear, she imagined that the broken pieces of her were disappearing with them, churning into the nothingness, bits of glittering ice lost forever in a dark ocean. She prayed to the Maker that those broken pieces would remain forever in the Fade.  

<<>>

“Just when I thought it wasn’t possible for you to be any more foolish, you surprise me. How wonderful.”

“I don’t understand why you are being so nasty. My sister offered to make you some of her famous meat pies. They really are the best.”

“Your _sister_ is a demon, you snivel-headed toad! How can I make you understand?”

“You know, calling a woman a demon is pretty rude. I don’t think I like you very much.”

“The feeling is mutual. I don’t know why I am even bothering to save you. I think you would do well here with your delusions for company.”

“Well if that is how you feel, then no meat pies for you!”

Morrigan threw up her hands in disgust, and was relieved to see Elissa and her knight running towards them.

Elissa was breathing hard. “There you are! We’ve been running around this damned place for hours!”

“Yes…and I have been here, alone, with this fool. The hours were long, indeed.”

Alistair spoke up, his face eager. “More guests! Goldanna loves visitors! The kids are running around here somewhere. You know how kids are…never where you expect them to be.”

Morrigan sighed, loudly. She looked at Elissa. “He thinks that he lives in that shack with his sister and her children. He has been trying to convince me to come inside for dinner. I have yet to see the demon emerge. Apparently, it is…baking.”

Elissa arched an eyebrow. “Baking? Great. I take it you know what is happening?”

Morrigan sniffed. “I know more of the Fade that most mages. This illusion is particularly feeble, though that is to be expected. It does reflect the mind of the dreamer, after all.”

“Morrigan. I think I know a way to…”

“Dinner is served!” A plump, redheaded woman emerged from the hut, wiping her hands on her apron. She looked surprised to see them. “Alistair, you didn’t tell me we had guests!”

Alistair spoke up. “Sorry sis. This is…umm...well…I’m not really sure who they are.”

“No matter! There is plenty for everyone.” The demon smiled, placing her hand on Alistair’s shoulder. “You are all welcome here. Any friend of my brother is a friend of mine.”

Morrigan was tired of this folly. “Oh for pity’s sake!” She raised her wand to destroy the demon, but something else happened instead. The illusion started to flicker, and the demon began screaming. Her skin was tearing off in long ribbons, her violet demon flesh exposed beneath the skin of Alistair’s sister.

“Goldanna?” Alistair looked confused, yanking his arm away from her. Morrigan looked at Elissa and noted her posture, her breathing. She was destroying the illusion by sinking into the empty place in her mind.

_Interesting._

Alistair tried to grab the demon, but Morrigan created a wall of energy between them. The demon’s skin was melting off at this point, pooling around her feet. She was exposed at last.

“What in the Maker’s name…” Alistair’s mouth was hanging open in shock.

Morrigan sent a bolt of energy to the demon, destroying her completely. Elissa took a sharp breath in, trying to regain control. She spoke, her voice laced with the strain of trying to balance between consciousness and darkness. “An illusion. Not real.”

Alistair was looking down at the puddle, a horrified look on his face. “Can someone please explain to me what is happening? Why did my sister just...melt?”

Morrigan turned to Alistair. “As I was trying to explain before, we are in the Fade. This place is the construct of a very powerful demon. Our actual bodies are still in the tower.”

“The Fade? How? Who…?”

Morrigan let out a loud sigh, but Elissa answered for her. She walked towards Alistair, placing her hands on his shoulders. “Listen to me! You are a Grey Warden! Pull yourself together.”

“A Grey Warden? What…”

She shook him. “Do you remember Ostagar? Duncan? The Tower of Ishal? Think!”

Alistair’s face scrunched up. He looked like a little boy working out a complex problem. Morrigan had to stifle a laugh.

He spoke slowly. “Ostagar. You were there…in the tower. An arrow in your neck. Loghain. He…he betrayed us. And we are trying to stop him.”

“Yes.”

“And we are in the Circle tower. Trying to get help for…Arl Eamon. For Connor?”

“Yes.”

Alistair looked at the puddle of demon flesh. “But now we are stuck in the Fade. With demons. That melt.”

Elissa let go of him. “You seem to have it all worked out, Alistair.”

Alistair rubbed his temples. “Maker’s ass! How do we get out of here?”

Elissa turned to Morrigan. “I think I might be able to break the demon’s hold, Morrigan. You saw what I just did.”

“Yes. It seems as though your mind allows you to circumvent the Fade, or at least destroy the illusions therein. You may be able to wake from this by simply letting it take you. The only issue is…”

“How do I take you all with me? If I wake alone and the darkness is upon me, I could kill you all while you sleep. We need to escape together, or not at all. Do you have any ideas?”

Morrigan thought about it. “It may be possible…perhaps it is not _we_ that need to be awakened. If you can block the demon who controls this place, he may flee to a safer area of the Fade, which may allow us to circumvent his control.”

“How could I do that?”

“We need to engage it directly, not just its minions. You need to force him into the darkness with you.”

“How? It is all in my mind!”

“And so is this place! We are literally walking around in the mind of the demon. Or at least, in the area of the Fade it controls. But if you can will the emptiness within yourself, it will be projected here. It is what allowed you to destroy the demon without touching it. You need to focus it into a trap, into a pit or chasm for him to fall into.” Morrigan paused, Flemeth’s words drifting into her mind. _She is like a bridge over a deep crevasse._ “We use brute force to help you trap him there. Then, we should be free.”

“Are you sure that will work?”

“No…but it is the only option I see.”

Elissa chewed the inside of her jaw. “I can’t always control it, much less visualize it. This could be dangerous for all of you.”

Alistair spoke up. “How is it any more dangerous than letting that demon toy with our minds?”

Elissa looked at Roland and he shrugged. “You lead, I follow. That was the agreement.”

Morrigan saw something pass between the lady and her knight. There was a coldness between them that was not there before.

_Interesting._

“Roland…when we wake in the tower, you may have to…”

“I know.”

Alistair interrupted. “What are you two talking about?”

Morrigan spoke for them. “Were you not at Redcliffe? If she plunges into the darkness to free us, she will mostly likely awaken in that state. She will need to be subdued.”

Elissa shook her head. “It can get…much worse than that.” She looked at Roland, her eyes pleading.

He spoke for her. “At Redcliffe, she was still fighting for control. If she goes under completely, I won’t be able to talk her out of it. And if she is in too deep...well…things could get messy.”

Alistair spoke up. “Messy how?”

Roland ignored him, stepping towards Elissa. “This is your call. When we wake…if we wake, you may already be in deep. There won’t be much I can do. But…it _could_ be useful.”

Elissa nodded slowly. “The abominations, the blood mages. They cannot access my mind in that state, if I am truly cut off from the Fade as Morrigan suggests. They wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“You could clear the way for us.”

Alistair interrupted. “Wait…are you saying we let her go crazy in the tower? And just…follow in the wake of whatever she does?”

Roland shrugged. “We may not have a choice.”

“But she could be killed! She can’t face them alone! We have to go with her.”

Roland sighed. “She can handle herself. It is safer for her as well. You don’t understand how difficult it is to fight someone who is trying to kill you _without_ killing them. Our best option is to get away from her a soon as we wake up and hope she targets the abominations instead of us.”

Elissa was pacing now. “The only problem I see is…what if there are more innocents? I would kill them just as quickly.”

“It is a risk we are going to have to take.”

Alistair held up his hands. “This is not a good idea. We need to take few minutes to…”

The ground began to tremble. The scene around them began disintegrating and the sky filled with darkness.

Morrigan gripped her staff. “The time for debate is over. The demon comes.”


	25. Demon

Roland was trapped in the fog.

It was thick and unyielding. He could feel it creeping into his nostrils, thick tendrils of it crawling into his ears. He wasn’t sure if he was lying down or standing up, if his eyes were open or closed. The grey cloud surrounded him completely.

He struggled. Part of his mind was in panic, trying to break free. He tried to move, but his limbs were heavy. He tried to call out, but his mouth was full of wool.

_Falling.  
_

He felt something, deep in his chest. Something was wrong and he needed to act. But the fog was so heavy. Everything was so…

_Black. Endless. Terrible. Like forgetting. Like failure._

He groaned, but was unsure if he actually made a sound. That panic in him was getting sharper, clearer. Images were coming back to him.

_The beast charged us. It charged and she…_

He twisted his head. He tried to will life back into his limbs. But the fog was relentless.

_She ripped the world apart. And I felt it._

He groaned again. He heard the sound of his own voice this time. Weak. Exhausted.

_There was no way to win. We were losing. And then she…_

The panic was coming to the surface. He needed to move. He had to find his way through the fog before something terrible happened.

_Elissa. We have to find her. We have to help her._

He twisted again. He could feel something heavy on his body, but it was not fog. It was cold, hard, making it difficult to move.

_Maker, I felt it. I never knew…_

Something was shaking him. He tried to push against it, but his arms were too heavy to stop it. His stomach was in agony. Part of him wanted the fog to come back. The pain in his body was too much to bear.

_I am so sorry. I never knew how terrible…_

He felt something white and bright burning against his eyes. Light. He needed to open them. But he knew the pain would come if he did.

_Forgive me._

“Roland!”

He twisted again, trying to move his arms. The cold metal was like a cage. He realized it was his armor. It was too heavy. He groaned.

“Roland. Wake up!”

His eyes opened, the bright light burned though his head like liquid fire. He felt the word spinning around him. The pain in his stomach was agony.

He heard another voice. “Turn him over, fool!”

He felt his body move, the world spinning in the wrong direction. He felt his body heave, the hot fluid rushing from his lips. He heard it splatter on the stone floor. It was vile, but the relief was instant.

“You’re alright, Roland. Just relax, man.”

He heard his own voice, cracked and broken. “Elissa…”

The other voice answered. “She is gone. Somewhere in the tower. We need to move.”

He felt himself being pulled from the ground. Hands on his shoulders. “C’mon, Roland. We need you.”

His eyes adjusted. Alistair was standing in front of him, his skin as pale as death. Morrigan was behind him, leaning heavily against a large table. She was shaking.

Roland wiped his mouth. His hands were trembling. “What happened?”

Alistair’s eyes were dark. He looked exhausted. “We fought the demon. It was…monstrous. It almost killed us all.”

Roland shook his head. He could see bits and pieces...flashes of what happened. The beast slamming its hands into the ground, the earth shaking under their feet. Its roar filling the air, the smell of corruption and decay. He felt his stomach rumble again.

Morrigan spoke, her voice quivering. “She ripped the Fade open. Her ability is more powerful than I anticipated. I was using the Fade to power my spells against the demon, but when she…it was…very unpleasant.” She held her stomach. “I think…I think I’m going to…” She ran to the other side of the room and retched in a corner.

Alistair shook his head. “When the ground ripped open...it felt like…I don’t know…like I was going insane.” He looked at Roland with concern. “Elissa charged the beast and they fell into the chasm. Roland…you fell in with them. Are you…did you…?”

Roland jerked away from him and retched again. As his body worked to rid itself of that awful feeling, the memory came back to him.

_Elissa. She was standing perfectly still, her eyes black. And the ground opened up. She was on one side of the chasm with the demon, and we were on the other. I couldn't reach her. The chasm was like a whirlpool, sucking everything in. The sky disappeared. Sound became silence.  She charged the beast and they toppled into the chasm. And I fell in. Or maybe I jumped. And I felt…_

His body was finally rid of the sickness. He stumbled away from the mess on the floor. He closed his eyes, and his voice came out in a whisper. "I felt her screaming…in my mind. I was…in the…darkness…with her. And she was…screaming…”

Alistair put his hands on his shoulders, forcing him to look at him. “Roland…she didn’t scream. It was silent after you fell. And then, everything disappeared.”

Roland shook his head, pulling away from Alistair’s grasp. “No…in my head. The scream was in my head. Like she was in my mind…or like…I was in hers.”

Alistair’s eyes opened wide in understanding. “Maker’s breath!”

Roland closed his eyes. “It felt like…the absence of existence."  He looked at Alistair, trying to make him understand. "She was terrified.”

Morrigan walked towards them unsteadily, wiping her mouth. “I believe that…when you fell with her…you felt what she feels when the darkness takes her. I cannot penetrate her mind in that state because she is cut off from the Fade. But we were actually in the Fade this time. And for a moment, when the chasm opened…I felt it as well. Something darker than rage. I confess…I do not know how she endures it.”

Alistair ran his hands through his hair. “So where is she now?”

They all stood quietly, listening to the sounds around them. Far above them, they heard a scream. Then faintly…the sound of laughter.

Roland motioned to the others, drawing his sword. “She is above us, I think. We need to catch up with her as soon as possible. In that state…if she meets a templar…”

Alistair cursed. “They will think she is possessed! They will kill her without question!”

Roland tightened his grip on his sword. “It’s not her that I am worried about.”

<<>> 

Cullen clenched his jaw.

The blood mage was taunting him again. This time, it was the image of dancing girls, two of them, naked except for their golden bracelets, their skin glistening. They had long, dark hair, and their skin was the color of honey. They were rubbing against one another, their hands sliding over one another’s flesh. One of them licked her lips slowly, bending down to suckle her dance partner. The other crooked her finger at him.

“Join us, templar.”

Cullen shook his head. “I will not falter, blood mage!”

The girl laughed. “You can’t resist us forever, templar.” She pulled the other dancer’s head from her breast, caressing her face and kissing her deeply, their tongues dancing against one another’s.

Cullen closed his eyes while the blood mage continued torturing him with the obscene images. At first it was visions of terror, of his family being torn to shreds, his templar brothers being ripped apart. When that did not break him, the mage started showing him visions of lustful women, beckoning him, tempting him to renounce his vows. It never stopped, each vision blurring into the next. He forgot which mage was torturing him. He forgot how long he was in the cage. At times, he couldn’t remember his own name. It was getting more difficult to tell what was real and what wasn’t.

Occasionally, he heard a scream from the Harrowing chamber. It was terrible but at the same time, it was proof that there was a reality beyond these visions, that there was something happening beyond the glowing barrier that served as his cell. His brothers lay dead all around him. They were real, their twisted bodies a reminder of all that had happened. The sounds from the chamber were real, and those screams saved him again and again from giving in to his torturer.

He focused on the Chant. “Blessed are the peacekeeprs, the champions of the just. Blessed…”

“Who needs peace when you can have pleasure?” The girl laughed, running her hand down her belly and resting it between her legs. The other girl began nibbling her ear, winking at Cullen.

Cullen heard sounds in the outer hall. It sounded like fighting, but he couldn’t be sure. The dancing girls continued to touch one another, staring at him wantonly. He tried to look past them, sure that he saw movement in the shadows on the wall behind them.

Cullen saw something roll into the room, through the doorway behind the dancing women. He squinted his eyes, trying to figure out what it could be. His eyes widened in horror when he realized what it was.

There on the floor, staring at him with one eye open, was a severed head.

He stifled a scream as the creature followed it into the room.

It took him a moment to recognize the shape of the visitor. After a few moments, he realized it was another woman, covered in blood. Instead of golden bracelets, she was wearing armor. She was breathing heavily, one arm cradling the severed head of what appeared to be an abomination, the other flared out to her side, holding a dagger that dripped with blood. Her eyes were black and empty, her head tilted to the side, her nostrils flaring as she looked around her. Her eyes locked onto the dancing girls and she smiled, dropping the head to the ground to join the other. The pair of heads looked comical and terrible all at once, staring up at Cullen from the ground.

Cullen held his breath. There was only one explanation for this newest monstrosity.

The blood mages had finally summoned a demon.

The dancing girls did not acknowledge the terrible woman. They continued to dance, calling to him with wanton perversity. The bloody woman walked up behind them, almost calmly, and shoved her blade through the head of one of the women. Both dancers immediately disappeared.

In their place stood a male mage.

Cullen knew him. His name was Harlen. Harlen was a quiet mage who never smiled, preferring the solitude of books. He was always alone in the tower, and never made friends. Cullen had attended Harlen’s Harrowing. He always felt a little sorry for him.

Harlen was standing perfectly still, his body rigid. He was smiling for the first time, but his mouth was all wrong. His tongue was stuck out in an odd way. Cullen covered his own mouth with his hand, finally understanding what he was seeing.

The bloody woman had shoved her blade through the back of Harlen’s head, and it stuck out of his mouth like a grotesque silver tongue.

The tongue disappeared, and Harlen’s body fell to the floor with a sickening slap. The bloody women straddled the body, licking her lips. She gripped his hair with one hand and used her blade to saw his head off, using the strength in her little arms to partially tear the head from his body. She was laughing as she worked.

Cullen dropped to his knees and let out a whimper.

The bloody woman’s head snapped towards him. She stared at him with an animal hatred that he had never seen on a human face before. She yanked Harlen’s head from his shoulders and threw it towards Cullen. The head bounced off his barrier, leaving a trail of blood against the pulsating field. She started crawling towards him.

“Don’t…don’t come any closer!”

The woman stopped, tilting her head and staring at him. He hoped the magical barrier would hold against her. She looked feral, staring at him as though she wanted to rip him apart with her teeth.

“Be…begone! I will stay strong!”

She continued crawling around on her hands and knees, her hands slapping against the bloody floor, her black eyes staring at him the whole time. She looked like some sort of beast, walking back and forth on all fours in front of her prey. He gulped, trying to block her from his mind. But she was stronger than the other images. She did not change or flicker as they did. She seemed so real.

She lunged towards him suddenly but the barrier forced her back. She snarled, rushing towards it again. Again she was repelled, her blood soaked hair whipping around her face. She growled at him.

“You have no power over me, demon!”

She sat back on her heels, staring at him. He looked back at her, defiantly.

“You cannot break me. Andraste preserve me. Maker take pity on me.”

The bloody woman tilted her head back and laughed. It sent chills down Cullen’s spine.

He wasn’t’ sure if she was a demon or a blood mage or an illusion. He only knew one thing. The woman before him was utterly and completely mad.

He looked at her closely, realizing a great deal of the blood on her body was coming from wounds along her arms and chest. She was covered in gore, her chest heaving as she gulped in the air.  

She stopped laughing, her head tilted once again to the side. She stared at him.

He spoke, his voice coming out in a ragged whisper. “What do you want from me?”

She leaned forward, her face almost touching the glowing barrier that was his cage. When she spoke, her voice sounded like death.

“Everything.”

“I will never give in! You cannot break me!”

She laughed again, tilting her head back and clawing at her own neck, her nails opening up additional gashes on her skin. It was a terrible sight, watching her rip her own flesh in such a way.

She looked at him again, holding her bloody hands out towards him. She laughed as she spoke. “Why bother fighting? We can’t win. The nothing always wins, in the end.”

She slumped back on her heels, dropping her hands. Her black eyes were distant, staring past Cullen. He swallowed hard, watching the blood seep from the wounds on her neck. She seemed to feel no pain.

After a few moments, she spoke. Her voice was softer, resigned…and strangely human.

“The nothing always wins. Why not just…let it take you? Just…let it take the whole…fucking…world.”

Her eyes rolled back in her head. She fainted, falling to the side, her cheek pressed into the pool of blood from Harlen’s body.

Cullen stood, his legs almost buckling from exhaustion. Her body did not disappear. Neither did Harlen’s. He did not understand this new treachery, but he would not let it break him.

He heard another scream from the Harrowing chamber. But the visions had stopped, at least for now. He pushed against the barrier, but it repelled him, held in place by strong magic.

He began his prayer again. “Blessed are the peackeepers, the champions of the just. Blessed are those that stand before the corrupt and wicked and do not falter…”

<<>> 

Wynne covered her mouth and nose with her hand to try to block out the stench.

The qunari did not seem affected by the entrails and bits of flesh that were spread throughout the hall. He clutched his large blade, walking stoically through the filth.

Leliana and Zevran both had looks of disgust on their faces. Wynne tried to ignore the terrible sight. They were getting closer to the top of the tower, to the Harrowing chamber. To Uldred.

She clutched the Litany of Adralla, and said a silent prayer to the Maker that she would be able to read the words when the time came.

Leliana spoke. “What happened here?”

The qunari answered. “Battle and blood.”

Zevran cocked his head. “I hear something…crying, I think. Through there.”

They entered the small annex off the Harrowing chamber. A templar was standing with his back to them, his head in the corner, crying and saying snippets of the chant. A barrier glowed between him and them, some sort of magic that was keeping him trapped. He was surrounded by dead templars, their bodies twisted and piled on the floor of his cage. The floor near the door was also a bloody mess, with severed heads and bodies lying on the floor.

“Elissa!”

Zevran and Leliana rushed to one of the bloody bodies, turning it over. Wynne took a sharp breath in when she realized it was the young Warden, covered in cuts and scratches.

The templar turned to them, running towards the barrier that separated them. “Do not touch her! She is possessed!”

Wynne ignored him, kneeling down to examine the wounds that covered the girl’s arms and neck. “What could have clawed her like this?”

The templar spoke up. “She did it to herself. After…after killing Harlen. I…I think she must have been possessed. One of those filthy mages…”

“Possessed? What do you mean?”

“I beg you, do not wake her!”

Wynne ignored the templar and attended to Elissa’s wounds. The cuts were a simple matter to heal, but it was difficult to find them all through the dried blood on her skin. Leliana spoke to the templar as she worked.

“How can we help you, my friend?”

“Don’t call me your friend!  I know what you are, whore!”

Zevran’s eyes darkened. “I suggest you change your tone, friend.”

Cullen spat on the floor. “I do not have to listen to you. For all I know, you are another blood mage. Or another vision.”

Leliana spoke, her voice soothing. “Listen to us. We are not blood mages or visions. We are trying to save the tower. But we have little time. The Knight Enchanter, where is he?”

Cullen calmed down somewhat. “He is in the Harrowing chamber, with Uldred and the others. Maker, the sounds coming out of there…”

Wynne heard a commotion and saw the rest of their companions running towards them. Both men rushed to her side.

Roland spoke. “Is she…?”

“She is alive. I healed her wounds, but she is unconscious. How did you get separated?”

Alistair sighed. “It’s a long story.”

Wynne finished her work, standing. She was already tired, and the healing took much of her remaining energy. She stumbled as she rose. “Uldred is in the Harrowing chamber. He has Irving. We must stop him...I found the Litany. It is our only hope.”

Morrigan held her hand for the book. “Clearly, I am the only mage her fit for duty. We must get this business finished as soon as possible. We have wasted enough time as it is.”

Wynne clutched the Litany, looking at the apostate suspiciously. “No. I will come with you. I only need to read the Litany for its power to work. It will keep Uldred from controlling the mages. The rest of you must destroy him and rescue the Knight Enchanter.”

“Rescue? Are you insane?” The templar beat his hands against the barrier. “They have been in there for hours! There is no way they withstood Uldred’s temptations for this long. The only solution is to kill them all!”

Morrigan looked at Wynne. “The templar may be right. We may have to kill the Knight Enchanter.”

Wynne shook her head. “No. Irving would never give in to blood magic. He is too strong.”

“My brothers were strong, mage! And look at them!” The templar motioned to the bodies in his cell.

Wynne sighed. “Your name is Cullen, right?”

“My name is irrelevant. I am trying to keep you from making a terrible mistake.”

“Mercy is never a mistake, Cullen.”

“No one ever listens.” Cullen crossed his arms. “Fine, leave me here with that…that _monster_ if you must. When you kill Uldred, this barrier will no longer hold me. And I will make sure that mad creature never hurts another.”

Roland stood slowly. He walked towards the barrier menacingly. When he spoke, his voice sounded like ice. “You will not touch her. And you will hold your tongue.”

“But she…she is possessed! She cannot be allowed to live!”

“If you lay a finger on her, I will rip you apart, templar.”

Alistair spoke up, placing a hand on Roland’s arm. “Calm down Roland! Can’t you see he has been tortured?”

Roland turned to Alistair. It was the first time he had ever seen the knight truly angry, and the look on his face was unsettling. He gestured to Elissa. “Look at her, Alistair! What do you think she went through to get here? You felt it, in the Fade. A small piece of it, anyway. All that pain...she endured that so we could escape. So we could save the people in this tower. People like him! No one will call her a monster without facing the consequences. No one.”

Leliana spoke up. “You were in the Fade? How is that possible?”

Alistair sighed. “Like I said…it’s a long story. And we don’t have time for it now.”

Cullen yelled, “She clawed at her own body! She…she beheaded that mage. She is mad.”

Roland spun around to the templar, his face turning red. “I am warning you, templar. Watch your tongue or you will lose it.”

Cullen pointed to Elissa. “That… _thing_ …it must be destroyed!”

Roland lunged at the barrier. Zevran tried to hold him back. “Be calm, Roland. The boy is not in his right mind.”

Alistair tried to diffuse the situation. “Everybody just calm down! We’ve all been through a lot and we need to keep our heads.”

Roland took a deep breath. “I felt what she…how she feels when…” He shook his head, unable to finish.

Alistair nodded. “I know, Roland. I felt it too.”

Roland looked at him, his eyes dark with anger. “No one touches her. I will stay here and when that barrier falls, if that templar so much as looks at her, he will join his brothers.” Roland put his hand to his hilt. “She has been through enough.”

Zevran took a similar stance, standing beside his friend. “I agree. Although I have no idea what is going on, I am rather fond of this woman.”

Alistair held his hands up. “Fine. That’s fine. Both of you can protect her and we can deal with whatever is behind those doors.” He turned to the templar. “Look, Cullen is it? You may want to rethink your position here. This woman is no demon and she’s not possessed. You don’t have all the facts and I don’t have time to explain it to you. Just know that she is the person who led us in here to save you. Try to remember that when the barrier falls. And if that doesn’t work, then consider that you probably don’t have the energy to fight these two.”

Cullen took a deep breath, looking at them all with eyes full of anger. “Threaten me all you like. When I am free of this cage, I will find my way out of here. The Knight Commander will listen to me. He is a man of honor, and he will know what needs to be done.”

Wynne nodded solemnly. “I hope you are right, Cullen.” She looked at the others. “I don’t know what happened here, but we have no time to discuss it. Let’s get to Uldred and stop this madness.”

Alistair looked at Roland and Zevran. “Stay with her and make sure she is safe. We can take care of the mages.”

Roland nodded once. He stood over Elissa, watching Cullen suspiciously. Zevran drew his blades and smiled.

Wynne took a deep breath. “Let us end this.”

<<>> 

Elissa was finally at sea.

She had dreamed so long of sailing, and the sea air was magnificent.

The wind billowed the large white sails of her ship, carrying her far away from the shore. Her arms were tired from waving goodbye, but it was a good sort of pain. She was free. She was ready for adventure.

The planks creaked beneath her as she walked, but she couldn’t seem to find her footing. The sun was blazing above her, and she tried to shield her eyes. But her arms were too heavy to lift.

The boat rocked her gently, back and forth. The waves crashed against the sides, spilling over the edges and soaking the wood. The sun was blinding.

She took a deep breath, then another, closing her eyes.

When she opened them, the boat was still rocking her. But she was no longer at sea.

Her face was pressed against cold metal. She was being carried, strong arms cradling her, walking through a long hallway. She could hear voices.

An old man spoke. “How many survived?”

“No more than thirty. Most of the children were saved, but not all. I barricaded us in the main annex, and tried to get the templars to open the door. They would not.”

“You saved many lives, Wynne.”

“It would have been for nothing if the Wardens hadn’t arrived. Greagoir called for the Rite of Annulment. He would have destroyed us all.”

“It is as I expected. Thank the Maker you all found me in time to stop it.”

“You are limping, Irving. Let me heal you.”

“I’ll be alright. We need to get to Greagoir without delay.”

Elissa opened her eyes. She saw Roland’s face, staring stoically ahead. She reached her hand up to touch his face and he jerked his arms in surprise, almost dropping her.

She mumbled. Her tongue felt like it was covered in ash.

He stopped walking, helping her to stand. She looked around her and saw all of her companions, looking at her with concern.

“What…what happened?”

Alistair spoke, but his voice was nervous. “We…we saved the day! What else?”

Leliana rolled her eyes and answered. “We found you outside the Harrowing chamber. You were in a bad state, but Wynne healed you. We defeated Uldred, thanks to the Litany, and rescued the Knight Enchanter and few more mages. We are almost at the gate.”

Zevran laughed. “Finally! I have never been happier to leave a place in my life.”

Elissa looked at the old mage. “You are First Enchanter Irving?”

The old mage smiled at her, his wrinkled eyes twinkling. “Yes. And you are Elissandre Cousland. Remarkable, seeing you again after so many years.”

“You…have we met before?”

“A long time ago, but you would not remember. Come, we can talk more, later. I believe we have time to stop the Rite, but I don’t want to cut it too close.”

Zevran spoke as they walked. “That templar, Cullen…he ran away as soon as Uldred was destroyed and his barrier fell. I am sure he is trying to convince Greagoir to destroy the Circle. He was in pretty bad shape, after what the blood mages did to him.”

Irving sighed. “Greagoir is a reasonable man. I am sure he will take the boy’s mental stability into consideration.” He sighed again. “So many good mages and templars dead, and for what? If anything, the Circle will become more restrictive now than it was before. Greagoir is a good man, but this will scar him as it has the rest of us. Come, it is best not to delay.”

Elissa was exhausted. Her arms were sore and her neck felt like it was on fire. She kept touching it, wondering why the skin was so tender. Roland kept an arm around her waist as they walked, keeping her steady so she could walk through the long hallway with the others. She found it odd that he would be so attentive to her, given what happened between them in the Fade. If anything, he seemed more protective of her than usual. It made her nervous, and she tried to remember what happened when the demon found them. But her mind was blank.

She continued to lean on him, her body drained. When they reached the main doors, she slowed down and whispered to him. “Roland…was it…bad?”

He looked at her seriously and didn’t say anything. There was something in his eyes…something that told her this episode was different than the others. She swallowed. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know.

“How bad?”

He shook his head. “I can’t…it doesn’t matter.”

“But…”

“You saved us. You helped us get through. Nothing else matters.”

“Roland…”

“I can’t. Ask Morrigan if you want details. But I…can’t.”

She swallowed. _It must have been terrible._ “Alright.”

He nodded, tightening his grip around her waist. “Let’s just get out of here.”

<<>> 

“It is good to see you again Irving.” The Knight Commander looked visibly relieved.

Irving’s eyes twinkled. “I am surprised to hear you say that Greagoir.”

“Why? Because we disagree on trivial matters? This tower is as much my home as it yours, First Enchanter. I had no wish to see it destroyed.”

Irving smiled. “Well, thanks to Wynne and these brave souls, we will be back to arguing about trivialities in no time.”

The mage and the templar shook hands. Elissa looked around her, watching the surviving mages file out into the main hall to join them. The templars watched them apprehensively. Irving was right. It would take a long time for the Circle to recover from this madness.

She caught the eye of a templar, a broad-shouldered man with curly blond hair. He was sitting alone, his eyes wild. He looked exhausted. He shuddered when their eyes met, and turned from her quickly. She looked up at Roland, and saw that he was watching the man suspiciously.

“Roland…what…?”

He spoke quickly, catching Alistair’s eye as he spoke. “I think we need to get back to Redcliffe as soon as possible.”

Alistair nodded in agreement, glancing quickly at the templar and then Elissa. He addressed Greagoir. “Knight Commander, we need mages to travel with us to Redcliffe.”

Greagoir crossed his arms. “Are you mad? We need the mages to help rebuild to the tower!”

Elissa spoke up, though her body trembled from weakness as she spoke. “We saved your cursed tower, and are now asking you to return the favor. I need four mages and lyrium to save a child, and then I need the solemn promise of every mage in this place to aid me against the archdemon when it appears.”

Greagoir crossed his arms. “You ask for a lot, Grey Warden. And what is this about a child? You did not mention this before. Is it possession?”

“The case is unique and does not require the templars. I ask for more than your mages. I ask for your trust.”

Greagoir eyed her suspiciously. Wynne spoke. “Greagoir, you have known me for a long time. I can vouch for this young woman. She saved us at great physical cost to herself. I believe her intentions are pure.”

“Intentions are all well and good but…”

Irving spoke up. “I will travel with the mages to Redcliffe. I can watch over them and assure we all return in one piece. I believe we all owe this young woman that much.”

Greagoir sighed. “Very well. I will assign templars to your group and I give you leave to travel. Choose your fellow mages wisely, and return quickly. There is much to be done here.”

Wynne spoke up again. “Irving, I would like to request permission to join you.”

“Yes, of course. You're healing magic will be useful, no doubt. Perhaps you can travel ahead with the Warden. She is very weak, and could benefit from your expertise.”

Greagoir threw up his hands. “We cannot spare a templar to accompany her!”

Alistair interjected. “I am a templar, though I did not take my final vows. I know the signs of possession and can protect Wynne as well as the others. She is safe with us.”

Greagoir ran his hands through his hair. “You have all proven that you are capable. And I will not have it said that the Circle stood by and did not offer aid when it was required.” He looked at Elissa. “Cullen told me some strange tales of you, Lady Cousland. Something about beheading and clawing…”

Roland tightened his hold on her waist and answered before she could. “The templar was in a bad state when we found him, Knight Commander. Elissa fought her way to the Harrowing chamber and killed the mage that was torturing him. She was covered in blood and passed out in front of his cell. He likely thought her another vision.”

Greagoir eyed them both with suspicion. “Perhaps. Whatever the case, I think it best that you leave without delay. The boy is…unstable right now. His story was…very descriptive.”

Irving spoke quickly, “Of course, Greagoir. We do not wish to trouble the young man any further, considering his _delicate_ state of mind.” He looked at Elissa, and she had a strange idea that he knew more than he was saying. “Please, be on your way Grey Warden, and take Wynne with you. I will prepare the other mages and we will follow you to Redcliffe as soon as possible.”


	26. Blossom

Roland pulled the flask from his satchel. There was only one drink left, but he needed it. He felt the warm liquid burn the back of his throat. He would need to refill it soon.

The others were still setting up camp, even though they only planned to rest for a few hours. Morrigan and Elissa were speaking quietly with one another as he left to find water. Roland knew the witch wouldn’t hold anything back. She would tell Elissa everything, without ceremony. He was glad for that. They were words he couldn’t say himself.

Roland knelt by the lake, taking a moment to breathe in the cool air. The smell of the tower still seemed to cling to his clothes, and he was desperate to get rid of the smell. He tried to convince himself that cleaning them might help him forget what happened in the tower.

It wasn’t the abominations that bothered him. It wasn’t the demons. It was the Fade that made him feel soiled.

He and Elissa had always been close, almost inseparable since the first day they met. He realized now how much he had depended on that intimacy. He always assumed they knew everything about each other. The Fade proved him wrong.

It was unsettling that she had witnessed his innermost thoughts in such a way. And it was even more upsetting that he felt her pain when they fell into the void together. It was almost as if, for a brief moment, they were the same person. And it made him love her more deeply than ever before.

He shook his head at the irony of it. They were connected. They had both experienced the deepest and darkest parts of each other. And she still denied her feelings for him.

Roland had never been a vain man. Still, he was aware of other people in a way that only a warrior could be. He knew when a woman wanted him. And at times, he could see that look in her eyes. But he also understood how complicated their relationship was. She relied on him. In many ways, he was the only person she trusted to tell her the truth, to accept her as she was. And he knew how much she needed that from him. He could not blame her for wanting to preserve it.

That did not lessen the pain, however. Her rejection had hurt him deeply. And yet…if he was honest with himself…he was not surprised. She had obviously developed feelings for Alistair. And as much as he wanted to hate him for it, he couldn’t. It was almost impossible not to like Alistair. He was a good man. He made her smile. He made things easier for her. And Roland could not hate him for that.

He knew this day would eventually come. He had been preparing for it for the past few years. She would marry and leave Highever and he would remain and nurse his broken heart. He couldn’t count the nights he had lain awake dreading that day. And yet…a secret part of him thought she would marry a man she despised. He did not want that for her, not really. But he often imagined that she would think of him…miss his company…wish she were with him instead. In the darkest place in his heart, it had been an odd comfort.  

He turned his flask up again, and only a small drop came out. Throwing it down in frustration, he pulled his shirt off, dipping it into the water. He heard footsteps behind him but didn’t bother to turn. He would know her footsteps anywhere. He also knew, as usual, she would speak first.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Well, that’s not surprising.”

Roland continued cleaning his shirt. She knelt beside him. “Roland…”

“Don’t. You know me. Leave it at that.”

She sighed, running her hands through her hair. “Alright.” She was silent for a few a moments. He heard her take a sharp intake of breath. “Roland…what in the Maker’s name is that?”

He felt her fingers touch his shoulder.

_Shit._

He stood up, pulling away from her. “It’s nothing.”

“Bullshit! When did you…?

“Just leave it alone, Elissa.”

“You do know me, right? Let me see it! Was it is Zevran who…?”

He sighed, aware that keeping it from her was yet another exercise in futility. He turned his shoulder towards her so she could see. “It wasn’t Zevran. It was Athras. He…after we talked he…said the vallaslin was sacred and that I…that he wanted us to be brothers. A sign of forgiveness.”

She looked at his shoulder, her head cocked thoughtfully to one side.

Her fingers traced the tattoo. “It’s a blackberry blossom, right?”

_In your eyes the future, a thousand stars descending._

He looked down at her. “Yes.”

Her fingers were warm on his skin, tracing the delicate petals the elf had etched into his shoulder. He could see the blush creeping up her cheeks.

_Your smile a hint of worlds, of dreams unending._

He cleared his throat. “Athras said that the ink was for life. He said I should choose something…that was important to me.” Her eyes turned up to him.

_In your hand you hold the hearts of kings._

Her voice was soft. “It…it is very beautiful.”

He stared at her. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest.

_A crown for you, oh queen of wild things._

“I know.”

They both heard the twig snap. She turned toward the sound and he looked up. A mage was coming towards them, his filthy robe covered in mud and nettles, a sign that he had been following them on foot. His face was distorted into a look of pure rage. He raised his staff, a red glow swirling around his outstretched hand.

Roland did not think. He pushed Elissa to the ground, hard. The bolt hit him in the chest and he flew backwards, the spell ripping through his flesh. The ground slammed into this back, but it was nothing compared to pain in his chest.

He thought of blackberry blossoms, floating softly on a surface of deep blue water.

Then the pain took him and the world turned to darkness.

*****

“I think there is something wrong with you, Roland.”

He looked up from his journal. Elissa was laying on the ground, staring up at the clouds. Tellux was lying beside her, diligently licking his paws.

“Oh?”

“This may very well be that last day of summer and you are too busy sketching to enjoy it.”

Roland shrugged. “Drawing is relaxing. At least it’s not poetry.”

She laughed. “Daeron’s poetry makes my skin crawl. He’s always going on and on about lips.”

Roland smiled. “Ah yes. _Lips of red, wine soaked kiss. Your lips inspire endless bliss_. Was that it?”

“Uggg! What a buffoon! He’s only fourteen but he tries to act like an adult. And it was on perfumed paper! The smell is still in my room.” She rolled over, propping her face in her hands. “What about you, Roland. Poetry is a noble pursuit, if it is done well. Have you never written anything?”

Roland’s cheeks turned red. “I prefer drawing.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re lying! I can always tell, you know.”

“Unlike Daeron, I know when to keep my mouth shut.”

“Please let me hear it! I’ll be nice, I promise!”

“Absolutely not.”

“You’re blushing! You’re embarrassed!”

“I am not embarrassed. I’m annoyed.”

“There is nothing to be ashamed of. Even Fergus writes verse. He has been writing passionate love poetry to some woman he met in Antiva.”

“How do you know that?”

“I peeked.”

“You…you snuck into his room again!”

“Oh, he doesn’t mind. He’s been acting strange ever since he returned home. He’s always moon-faced, muttering to himself. It is obviously love.”

“How would you know?”

“I’m a woman. Well…almost. And anyway…he said so in his letter to her.”

He sighed, giving her his most exasperated look. “You shouldn’t read his personal letters. How would you feel if he did that to you?”

“I wouldn’t write love letters. I would walk right up to the man and just tell him. And if he laughed at me, I would punch him in the eye.”

“Of course you would.”

“Let me see your drawing.”

He handed his journal to her.

She looked at the image thoughtfully. “Is it… a faery?”

He rolled his eyes, snatching his book back. “It is supposed to be your queen of wild things.”

“It doesn’t look like me.”

“You are hard to draw. You never hold still.”

“She’s too pretty. And too old. I don’t even have breasts yet.”

Roland’s cheeks flushed again. “You can’t say things like that. Not in front of men.”

“You are not a man.”

“Yes I am! And you are only thirteen and that makes you the child and me the adult. You can’t talk about…you know…”

“Breasts?”

He sighed. “I think Daeron is a bad influence on you. If he sneaks another love poem to you, I am going to punch _him_ in the eye.”

“Oh, don’t act like such an old man. I am just trying to help you become a better artist.” She stood, dusting the grass and dirt from her shirt. “My queen is a wild creature of the north, unfettered by worldly cares, beyond mere mortal beauty.” She held her arms out, raising her voice. “A queen of shifting winds and piercing thorns, who will disappear into the green to never be seen again…especially if she is molested by bad poetry.” She laughed.

He smiled. “This is why I would never dream of reciting verse to you. You may disappear forever.”

She shook her head. “I would never leave you, Roland.”

He looked up at her. “Oh?”

“Of course not. I need you to make my crowns.” She grabbed the book from his hands and ran away. He stood, chasing her up through the grass with Tellux at his heels. They ran through the grass until the sky darkened, forcing them to return to the Keep. The first storm of autumn rolled in from the coast, drenching the fields around Highever, heralding the end of summer.

*****

Elissa screamed. She jumped to her feet and ran towards the mage.

She pulled a knife and threw it into the mage’s heart as she ran towards him. Then she threw another. And another. And another. The mage stood, looking down at his chest in awe, his eyes wide with wonder at the blades sticking out of him. When Elissa reached him, she removed his head from his body with both daggers.

It all happened so fast she didn’t realize she was screaming the whole time. When she drew a breath in, it felt like her lungs were on fire.

She turned quickly, dropping her blades, running back to Roland’s body. He was shaking on the ground. The gash in his chest was deep and blood was bubbling out of it. _Not real, it’s not real, it’s not real_ ….

Alistair ran towards them from the camp, his mouth open in shock. Elissa fell to the ground and placed her hands on Roland’s wound. She looked in his eyes. She knew he was dying. She looked up at Alistair, screaming at him. “Get Wynne! Now!” Alistair turned and ran back towards the camp.

Elissa kept her hands pressed against the wound. The blood was seeping out between her fingers. “Roland? Roland, look at me.” She tried to keep her voice calm. His eyes locked onto hers. He looked terrified.

_Roland is never afraid. This can’t be real._

“You are going to be alright. Stay strong. Keep your heart beating, damn it.” His jaw was moving, but no sounds were coming from his mouth. “Don’t try to talk. Focus on breathing.” His eyes started to close. “No no no. Stay with me, you stubborn bastard.” She was starting to feel frantic. His body was growing still.

She heard Alistair and Wynne running towards them. She looked up at the old mage, unable to keep the terror out of her voice. “Help him!”

Wynne knelt down and touched his throat with her fingers. “His heart has stopped.” She placed her hands on his chest. “Remove your hands, now!” Elissa pulled her hands away. She saw what looked light lightening dance from Wynne’s hands to Roland’s chest. His body jerked. Wynne touched his neck again, looking for life. She shocked his chest again. And again. And again.

After a few attempts, Elissa felt hands on her shoulders. It was Alistair. “Come away, Elissa.” She looked up at him. She saw the sadness in his eyes.

She looked back at Wynne. The old mage stopped her work, her eyes full of pity.

“No!” Elissa screamed. She jerked from Alistair’s grasp and slammed her fists down onto Roland’s chest. She hit him over and over again. “You don’t die like this! Wake up now! You do not…fucking…die on me, Roland!”

Alistair tried to pull her from him once, but she pulled away from him, snarling, her fists pounding again on Roland’s bloody chest. She could feel the world growing grey around the edges. _This is not real, this is not real, this is not real._ Her hands were throbbing from hitting his lifeless body, but she refused to stop.  

“You promised me. Your life is mine. Now and forever. You promised me.” She knew she was babbling, her voice wavering somewhere between a plea and a command. She could feel clawing on the inside of her throat, a scream threatening. She swallowed it down, her fists losing their strength. She hit him again.

She heard Wynne gasp. “Stop!” The old mage felt his neck again. “His heart has started again. Move! I must stop the blood loss while his heart beats!” Alistair grabbed Elissa, pulling her back and holding her arms in a vice-like grip. She fought him at first until she realized what was happening. Her eyes opened wide as she watched the old mage murmur, moving her hands over Roland’s wound. The flesh on his chest knotted back together before her eyes.

Wynne continued to murmur over him, her hands glowing as she traced them along his body. Without warning, Roland’s eyes opened and he took a large, quivering intake of breath. Elissa wretched herself from Alistair’s arms, throwing herself over Roland, her body shaking in a mixture of relief and terror. “You stupid, stupid man. You stupid, reckless, fucking idiot.”

She felt Roland’s arm drape over her weakly. Then she heard his voice, raspy but alive. “Don’t hold back, my lady. Tell me what you really think.”

She didn’t know if she should laugh or cry.

<<>> 

Wynne and Alistair helped Roland back to the camp. Elissa stayed by the water’s edge. She knelt down by the lake, trying to wash Roland’s blood from her hands.

After a while, she heard footsteps behind her and turned. It was Alistair.

“I came to see if you were alright.”

Elissa turned back to cleaning her hands. The blood was dried on. She couldn’t seem to get it off. “I’m fine,” she answered sharply.

He remained standing behind her. _What does he want?_ She continued to try to get the blood off her hands. But it wouldn’t come off. She scrubbed harder and harder.

She was annoyed that he wouldn’t leave. Couldn’t he see she was just washing her hands? The blood was streaked and red, smeared on her palms, her knuckles. She yanked another piece of moss from the ground to try to scrub it harder. But it wouldn’t come off.

She was getting frustrated. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes. _Why won’t it come off_?

She felt Alistair kneel down beside her. “Elissa…”

She couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m just trying to the fucking blood off, Alistair! But it won’t come off!” She could feel the tears running down her cheeks.

He grabbed her hands. “Stop, Elissa. There is no blood.”

She looked at her hands. They were pink from the scrubbing. They were clean. She started shaking.

Alistair pulled her to him, embracing her. “Roland is alright, Elissa. He is going to be fine.”

She held onto him, crying uncontrollably into his shirt. “He died. I watched him die. And it was my fault.”

Alistair rubbed her back. “But he lives. You brought him back. By beating him and calling him an idiot.”

Elissa barked a quick laugh. She kept her face in his shirt. She tried to stop shaking, but the more she tried to calm down, the more she cried.

He continued to hold onto her, rubbing her back. She could feel his warmth through his linen shirt. Slowly, she calmed herself, breathing in his scent as she struggled to find herself. She leaned back from him slightly.

He looked at her with concern, reaching up to wipe the tears from her cheek. “You’re a mess, Warden.”

She smiled. She released his shirt, but kept her hands on his waist. She didn’t want to let go of him. Not yet. He pulled his other hand from her back. His thumb gently swiped her other cheek as his hand rested along her jaw.

He stared at her, both hands cupping her face. She looked back at him, her breathing slowing to normal.

He leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips. She closed her eyes and parted her lips slightly, kissing him in return.

She pulled away from him, embarrassed that she had let this happen again. His hands fell and his eyebrows drew down in frustration. “I’m sorry. I know what you said before…about distractions. But I can’t help it, Elissa. Whenever you let me get this close to you, I just…can’t help it.”

She wiped her eyes and let out a sigh. “Alistair…I…it’s my fault too. I keep breaking apart in front of you. And you’re kind and caring and it just…happens, I guess.”

He smiled. “Maybe one day I can try to kiss you when you’re _not_ crying. Then maybe…I don’t know…maybe you wouldn’t feel so…”

“Exposed?”

“Right! And kissing me wouldn’t be associated with crying. That would be…better, wouldn’t it? Unless you cried after the kiss, in which case, I would just give up completely, I guess.”

She giggled and suddenly hugged him. She whispered against his neck, so softly he could barely hear her. “I don’t want you to give up…not really.”

She stood quickly, before he could respond. “We…uh…best get back to camp. We should check on Roland.”

He stood awkwardly, his cheeks slightly flushed. “Good idea.”

<<>> 

Roland lay on his bedroll. Wynne bandaged his chest to allow his wound to properly heal. His hand was lying over the bandage, his other arm resting behind his head. He watched the clouds overhead, a thoughtful look on his face.

Elissa walked over to him and knelt beside him. She just looked at him as he looked up at the sky.

After a few moments, he spoke without looking at her. “Go on, say it.”

She let out a long breath. “Why did you do that?”

“If you’re going to ask me questions you already know the answer to, then I’m going to tell Wynne you are interfering with my recovery.”

She crossed her arms. “It was stupid. You had no shield, no armor.”

“Neither did you.”

“I never wear armor. It slows me down.”

“Then you best get used to me taking hits for you.”

Elissa was furious, reeling in an urge to slap him. “You cannot protect me at risk to yourself. It was foolish and reckless.”

He turned his head slightly and looked at her. “I am a Highever knight, Elissa. It is my duty.”

“Do not throw those words back at me, Roland!”

Roland clenched his jaw. He was angry, but trying to stay calm. “I am sworn to serve and protect the Couslands. I made a vow to your father, the day I became a knight. Your mother made me vow to find and protect you. And you had me reaffirm that same vow to you in the Fade. I am not throwing words back at you. I am fulfilling my oath. So deal with it.”

“You unbelievable jackass!” Elissa stood. She looked down at him. He stared back at her defiantly. “Fine. If you want to throw yourself in front of mages to protect me, so be it. But you need to learn how to do it without getting killed. You will start training with Alistair, exclusively. Every single evening. Is that understood, knight?”

He looked back at her passively. “Understood.”

She crossed her arms. “I am really pissed at you, Roland.”

He smiled. “I’m used to it.”


	27. Vow

Elissa rested her head on the rim of the large copper tub. It seemed like an age since she had taken a proper bath. Her whole body was relaxed for the first time in weeks, the aches of hard travel disappearing into the warm water.

Lady Isolde offered them all accommodation at Redcliffe while they waited for the mages to arrive from Kinloch. Alistair was determined to see Eamon right away, but it was decided that they should wait until the situation with Connor was resolved. Alistair wasn’t happy about it, but he grudgingly agreed. However, he refused Isolde’s invitation, preferring to stay in the village. Elissa did not try to change his mind. She was too tired to argue with anyone.

Lady Isolde barely noticed. She spent most of her time in the chapel or by Eamon’s bedside. She would occasionally check on Connor, but never stayed long in his room. The boy was being subdued in a state of waking sleep by the combined power of Wynne, Jowen, and Morrigan. Lady Isolde inevitably burst into tears whenever she saw him.

Elissa convinced Bann Teagan to keep the knights in the village as a precaution. If the demon took control of Connor again, she wanted to keep the casualties to a minimum. The Bann avoided her as much as possible and she was glad.

Roland was given his own room to recover from his wounds. Elissa sat with him for a few hours after dinner, trying to convince him to eat. When that proved futile, she offered to read to him, but he declined her offer. He had nothing to say and seemed more agitated with her presence than soothed by it. When Wynne suggested that she rest and allow him to do the same, she had honestly felt relieved.

_Perhaps we both a need a little space from one another._

Elissa was surprised at Wynne’s fortitude, considering her age. She had to be at least sixty, yet she showed no sign of frailty. The old mage was constantly moving, checking on Roland every few hours before returning to the possessed boy. When Elissa tried to thank her for saving Roland, the old mage simply shooed her out of the way to attend to something else.

Leliana and Zevran took Sten to visit the dwarven merchant, Dwyn. Their visit was short, which was not surprising, and the qunari returned to the castle with his sword in his hand. He called the blade Asala. When Elissa asked him how it felt to have his sword back, the giant almost smiled. “Complete,” was his only answer. Despite his grudging response, the qunari did bow to her slightly when he left to go fishing. It amused Elissa to imagine the giant hunched over a tiny fishing pole on the shores of Lake Calanhad. Tellux went with him, and Elissa realized that for the first time, she had some competition for her mabari’s affection. She didn’t mind. Sten’s subtle limp from Teullux’s bite assured her that her dog still loved her best.

Elissa watched the steam rise from the warm water. There was nothing to do now but wait for the mages to arrive from Kinloch. She was thankful that they had a few days to rest. It felt good to lay back and let the soreness work its way out of her arms and legs. It was also nice to have time alone…time to think on all that had happened.

*****

Elissa had approached Morrigan about the events at Kinloch as soon as they made their first camp. She waited until Roland left, aware that he was still upset about whatever happened in the tower. The witch held nothing back, and she was thankful, though the story was disturbing to say the least.

The witch fingered her bone necklace as she spoke. “The demon was merciless, able to draw power from the Fade while the four of us weakened with each passing hour. We were all exhausted. The demon was almost victorious. But you were finally able to rip through his defenses…literally.”

Elissa shook her head. “I remember…the ground opening up. But after that…it is all…darkness.”

Morrigan shrugged. “That is not surprising. The demon charged you. It was aware that you were the source of the disturbance and it turned its attentions to you alone. With the Fade so disrupted, I was unable to cast spells. Roland and Alistair were trapped on the other side of the rift and could not reach you. You ran towards the creature when it charged, which resulted in both of you falling into the chasm. The dream disintegrated after that and we were able to awaken from the spell.”

Elissa looked towards the lake. “Roland seems…upset by it.”

“Your knight jumped in the chasm after you, without hesitation.”

“What? Why would he do that?”

“It was a foolish thing to do. His mind could have been lost forever.”

“What do you mean?”

Morrigan’s golden eyes narrowed as she thought about it. “The Fade is a part of us all…of every living creature…with the exception of darkspawn. The darkness, as you call it, is a part of you and you alone. By cutting yourself out of the Fade, you essentially cut yourself off from the fabric that connects living mana. For him to cast his own mind into the nothingness created by yours…it is a miraculous thing that he was able to wake at all.”

Elissa bit her lower lip. “So for a moment…he did not exist?”

Morrigan shook her head. “His _mind_ did not exist. Remember, we enter the Fade through our dreams. The only difference between mages and non-mages is the ability to enter the dream state while still awake….as well as to manipulate the Fade to an extent. By jumping into the chasm, your knight ripped his mind from the natural state of the Fade and entered what is essentially nothingness. His mind was torn from the connection that the Fade produces between our minds and our corporeal forms.”

“But…I am able to come back. The tear is never permanent.”

“No…but it is within _your_ mind. For a time…I believe he was in your mind with you. He could have been trapped there forever...a silent watcher.”

Elissa felt the hairs on her neck stand up. “How did he escape?”

The witch shrugged. “It is unclear what happened once you both fell. Everything disappeared. Alistair and I both woke immediately, but Roland was…difficult to rouse. I believe he was struggling somewhere in between the Fade and waking. Lost…like a shadow that has been cut from the body...wandering in nothingness.”

“Will there be any long-term effects?”

Morrigan cocked her eyebrow. “I cannot say. Your condition is a mystery to me. I have never heard of nor studied such a phenomenon before.”

“Duncan seemed to know about it. He thought it was similar to the fighting style of dwarven berserkers.”

“I am not so sure. The dwarves do not dream…they cannot access the Fade at all, which is why they have no magic and why magic has little effect on them. In this way, your condition is similar because you can forcibly remove yourself from the Fade. But I am still able to touch dwarven minds. They still have mana, like all living things…the only difference is that their mana is not connected to the Fade as ours is. But when this thing takes you, your mana is no longer tangible. You are…untouchable. I admit…I cannot understand it.”

“And what of Roland? Has it…changed him?”

Morrigan shrugged. “He appears the same…but you know him better than I.”

*****

Elissa let out a deep breath. She didn’t _want_ to think about Roland any longer. But every time she closed her eyes, she could see his chest exploding, or the terrified look in his eyes as he lay on the ground. And the thought of him losing his mind, being trapped inside a black room for all time…was too terrible to consider.

_He died for me…twice in the same day. Even after I hurt him. He never hesitated._

She tried to block the painful thought from her mind. She let her head sink beneath the water and pressed her body to the bottom, the warm water enveloping her.

_I am a Highever knight, Elissa. It is my duty._

She opened her eyes. Tendrils of her golden hair floated up around her face and the candlelight danced on the surface of the still water.

_This is what consumes him. His vows. His shame for failing you._

She let the remaining air out of her lungs and watched the image distort as the bubbles broke the surface.

_He protects you because he is your friend. But he also has a duty to protect you. Do you understand the difference?_

She closed her eyes and drifted.

<<>> 

It was tradition for the entire household to witness the oath of a newly sworn knight.

Roland had proven himself worthy of knighthood by defending one of the outer keeps from raiders while her father and brother were away on business. He led the charge when severely outnumbered, and had not lost a man. At nineteen, he was one of the youngest men to ever be given the honor of joining the Highever guard.

Her father had gathered the household in the practice yard, their positions for the event passed down from generations of Highever tradition. Elissa stood with her mother and Oriana, each woman holding a copper bowl filled with water. They faced north, a symbol of their family’s position as the guardians of the northern lands of Ferelden. Fergus stood with the knights in full regalia, facing west to indicate the setting sun. The household servants faced south, each holding a bundle of Highever grass in their hands. Mother Malloll stood with members of the chantry, facing east towards the sunrise.

Roland stood in the center of the yard with her father. The ceremony began at her father’s command and Roland walked alone to stand before the servants.

Master Aldous, the oldest servant at the castle, spoke the traditional words to begin the ceremony.

“Roland of house Gilmore, your hands are clean. It is the rain of the northern ocean that brings life to this land. It is the soil of Highever that grows our crops. It is the seeds of grass that are the foundation of the North. Will you take this land as your own?”

“I will.”

Roland knelt, grabbing a fistful of dirt from the ground and holding it out in his left hand. Master Aldous poured water over his fist from a clay urn and then placed the bundle of grass into his muddy hand. The bundle was highly symbolic, composed of a single blade of grass from every major grain that grew in the Coastlands. It was the symbol of their household, the basis of the laurel wreath that was etched into their shields and armor. Each of the servants stepped forward and touched Roland’s bundle with theirs.

When they finished, Master Aldous spoke. “This land is now yours.”

Roland stood. “I will protect it with my life.” He turned, and stepped before the knights. Fergus drew his dagger.

“Roland of house Gilmore, you stand alone. It is with our brothers that we fight. It is with our brothers that we bleed. It is with our brothers that we prevail and hold the lands of the North. Will you join us as a brother?”

“I will.”

Roland knelt before him, holding out his right hand, palm up. Fergus ran the edge of his blade over Roland’s palm. Each of the knights stepped forward and pressed their thumb into his bloody hand, swiping the blood along their foreheads. When they were finished, Fergus motioned to him to rise. He kissed each of Roland’s cheeks.

“Your blood belongs to us. Welcome, brother.”

Roland answered. “I will give it when you need it, brother.”

Roland turned and stood before the family. Her mother stepped forward.

“Roland of house Gilmore, your hands are soiled. It is love and honesty that binds us as a family. It is loyalty that makes this house endure. It is duty that holds us as guardians of the North. Will you serve and protect the Couslands, even unto your death?"

Roland knelt before her. “I will, my lady.” He held his left hand out to her. She removed the bundle of grass from his hand and placed it into the bowl of water. The three women knelt before him and washed the mud from his soiled hand. When they were finished, they each placed a kiss in his palm.

The Teryna spoke. “Your life is ours, Roland Gilmore.”

Roland stood. His eyes caught Elissa’s briefly before he answered her. “I give it to you freely and willingly.” He stepped before Mother Mallol.

“Roland of house Gilmore, you stand bleeding. It is the eternal fire of Andraste that burns in the hearts of men. It is the will of the Maker that drives us to suffer. It is the Chant of Light that guards the houses of the North. Will you become a knight under the eyes of the Chantry?”

“I will.”

Roland knelt before her and she motioned to her acolytes. One poured oil into his bleeding palm. The other touched the oil with flame. As the fire burned in his hand, Mother Mallol spoke. “By the fire of Andraste, your oath has been sanctioned by the Chantry.”

Roland closed his fist, extinguishing the flame. “Let the Maker hear my vow.”

The Teryn moved to stand before him. He drew his ancient blade.

“Roland of house Gilmore, you have claimed the land and been welcomed by your brothers. You have sworn your life to the service of my family and your oath has been blessed by Andraste. What words do you offer?”

Roland spoke the words of countless knights before him.

“In purity of heart and strength of purpose I pledge my life in service of House Cousland. I will never ask for release nor forswear my oath. My life and my death are yours.”

The Teryn touched his blade to each of Roland’s shoulders.

“Rise, Roland Gilmore, Knight of Highever.”

<<>> 

Elissa rose, breaking through the surface of the water and gasping for air.

_Damn him!_

She was still angry with Roland for his reckless behavior. She was angry that he would sacrifice himself without a thought. She was angry that he would declare his love for her and then throw himself into a black pit after she rejected him.

_Stupid man! He does not even consider the guilt I would feel if he died!_

So bound to his oath, so stubbornly assured that his life was worth nothing more than his duty to her...it was infuriating. A part of her wanted him to renounce his vows, to leave her side and find a life that did not end in blood. But she knew he never would.

_It is not his love for me that drives him. His vows are all that matter._

She knew that was unfair, but it was hard to see past her anger. She could still see him, kneeling before the terrible image of her in the Fade, the look on his face when he placed the tip of the sword to his heart. It was too much like her mother, kneeling before her father.

_Tis not for the vow that I stay. It is because I love him._

Elissa stood from the water, the steam from her body reaching out like ghostly fingers into the cold room.

_I cannot let him die for me. I don’t care if it is his love or his vow or his own stupidity that rules his heart. I will not have more blood on my hands._

The room was rather chilly, despite the large fire. Isolde had given her one of the best rooms in the castle, but old castles were always drafty. Highever had been no different. She shivered as she stood from the tub, quickly wrapping herself in the soft robe that one of the servants left for her. She was surprised there were any servants left after all that happened.

_Life always goes on. We all drag ourselves from one task to the next, carrying the weight of our suffering with us._

Elissa shook her head. She was usually not prone to melancholy, but the past few days were taking their toll on her. The room felt too small, stifling. She dressed quickly, determined to seek out fresher air...to find any place where she could clear her head and think of something else.

She wandered through the great halls of Redcliffe, admiring the tapestries that decorated the corridors. They depicted great warriors and noble deeds, a history of Ferelden stitched in remarkable detail.

_There is so much history here. Hundreds of years this castle has stood on the shores of Lake Calanhad. To think that one child could cause so much devastation…_

She found her way to a quiet part of the castle, and heard a noise in one of the rooms. She quietly walked towards the sound and found Isolde, sitting alone in her husband’s study. The Orlesian woman was resting her head on his large desk, crying softly. Elissa started to turn away, but Isolde lifted her head and their eyes met before she could retreat.

“They tell me the mages will come and save my son. And then…they will take him from me.” Her voice was full of pain, the kind that only comes with the certainty of loss. Elissa felt her former anger at the woman dissolving. She looked so tired…so…defeated.

Elissa tried to keep her voice steady. “They will be good to him in the tower, Lady Isolde. He will be safe there. They will teach him to control his magic so that he never harms another.”

Isolde stood slowly, trembling. “You despise me, Lady Cousland?”

Elissa dropped her eyes and shook her head softly. “No. But your actions caused great suffering. It is not the kind of mistake we are allowed to make, my lady. Duty…it demands sacrifice. It demands that we put others before ourselves.”

_Your knight jumped in the chasm after you, without hesitation._

Isolde shook her head. “You speak as a warrior. You think that soldiers are the only ones that understand duty and sacrifice. But mothers know sacrifice as well, Lady Cousland. We sacrifice our bodies to give birth to our children. We sacrifice our hearts when our children leave us. It is all we know, from the moment our children open their eyes.”

She moved around the desk and approached Elissa. She was a small woman, with thin shoulders and a graceful neck. She had a classic Orlesian face, complete with pouty lips and almond-shaped eyes. A face made for poetry. Elissa could see the beautiful young woman she must have once been. But the lines around her eyes were etched with sorrow and her shoulders were heavy with exhaustion. Despite her beauty, she was just a woman afraid of being alone.

Isolde opened her hand and looked down at it. She was holding a small locket. “Men do not know what it is to be us. To be wives and mothers. Determination drives them while love drives us. They burn for battle and glory and we burn with them. We cannot help ourselves.” She looked up at Elissa. “The men we love and the children we raise…they all break our hearts. And yet…we still love them.”

She held the locket up for Elissa to see. “This belonged to Alistair’s mother. The memory of that woman was a thorn in my heart for so many years. And her son…I hated him for it. I still do. I cannot help it.”

“It is not Alistair’s fault, Lady Isolde.”

“I know that. But it does not change anything.” She shook her head. “Do you have a lover, Lady Cousland?”

Elissa shook her head and tried to ignore the heat that bloomed across her cheeks.

Isolde smiled. “Then you do not understand. There is no reason to love, no logic. It is like a wind that carries us without our consent. And it shreds us until we are nothing but bone. But we need it. And if love leaves us, there is nothing we can do but fall.”

Elissa thought fleetingly of Roland, jumping into the chasm after her. She felt a chill pass through her.

Isolde sighed and handed the locket to Elissa. “Eamon kept this likeness of her. He thought I did not know it, but I did. And now he is dying. I can forgive him loving another. Men cannot help what they feel. But women…we have no excuse. We must feel for others…we are the only ones that can.” She shook her head. “Soon enough, a picture in a locket may be all my own child has left of me. Give it to Alistair. Let him have the small piece his mother left for him.”

Elissa looked closely at the locket. It was cracked in the middle, and she was sure it was the locket Alistair told her about. She looked up at Isolde, and thought fleetingly of telling her the truth about Alistair’s mother. But the noblewoman was already walking away.

Before she left the room, she turned back to Elissa for a moment, her voice filled with sadness.

“Love is the ultimate sacrifice, Lady Cousland. It takes everything from us in the end. I would not wish love on my greatest enemy.”

<<>>

Elissa stood at the castle gates, watching the chimney smoke from the village curl into the evening air. She needed to get away from the castle, away from Isolde’s sadness, away from Roland’s pain.

She could hear music, faintly. She guessed most of the village had gathered in the local tavern to sing songs and tell stories to honor the dead. She considered joining them. Zevran and Leliana went down just after supper. But she did not feel right joining the people of Redcliffe.

_These are not my people. My people are gone._

She wandered aimlessly for a time, listening to the sounds of the night…the creaking of the windmill, the soft lap of Lake Calanhad against the wooden docks. She heard the horses, stamping and snorting in the stables and moved towards the sound. She saw a shadow pass by the stable doors and stopped, squinting to make out the figure. She moved closer, and saw him.

Alistair was crouched near the stable doors, rummaging through a sack. He jumped when he saw her.

She smiled. “Looks like I caught you red-handed.”

He looked sheepishly at the wine bottle in his hand. He shrugged. “The castle cook always had a soft spot for me. She turned a blind eye when I decided to raid the larder.” He motioned to the sack. “Hard cheese, soft bread, and a little fruit. The wine was just to wash it down.” He sat down beside his food, pulling his dagger from his side. He smiled up at her and motioned for her to join him.

_He is always so kind._

He pulled two apples from his sack and set to work on peeling them. Elissa sat down beside him and opened the wine.

“So…have you come to convince me to return to the castle?”

She shrugged. “You’re a big boy, Alistair. I think it is up to you to decide where you sleep.” She pulled the cork from the bottle and took a small drink. “Besides, I can hardly blame you. It is nice out here. More open than that stuffy castle.”

“Yeah. Good view of the stars, too.”

“You didn’t get a room at the tavern?"

“Nah…waste of money. I decided to sleep in my old bed, in the loft above the stables.”

Elissa frowned. “You didn’t have a room in the castle when you lived here?”

He shrugged. “I did when I was very young. But after Isolde married Eamon…well, let’s just say I have never been a fan of nasty glares.”

She passed the wine to him. “It was wrong of Isolde to treat you that way.”

He handed her an apple slice. “I didn’t really mind sleeping out here. I had the whole yard to practice in and the horses for company. The loft was actually pretty cozy.” He took a bite of his apple. “So…why are you out here?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I needed air I guess.”

He looked at her questioningly as he passed the wine back to her.

She took a bite of apple and washed it down with the wine. “I just…needed to think.”

He nodded. “Alot has happened over the past few days. Everything with Roland…”

“I do _not_ want to talk about Roland.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Well then…what’s on your mind?”

Elissa thought about it. “I don’t really know. Everything?”

He laughed. “That topic is way too big for me. Can you narrow it down a bit?”

She rested her head on the barn. Alistair was right. The stars were full in the sky above her. “I keep thinking about duty. About the vows we make and what they really mean.” She let out a long breath. “Do you ever feel like…like everything we do is meaningless?”

“Wow. It’s never simple with you is it?”

She laughed. “I guess not. But it’s bothering me, Alistair. It just all seems so damned pointless. I mean…no matter how many knights swore to protect my family, they still died. And the Grey Wardens died at Ostagar.”

“Not all of them.”

“No…but most of them did. I just…I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like the only drive we have in life is to find an excuse for our own death. But what if our end is already mapped out for us and no matter what we do, no matter how we strive, it is inevitable? And we run around and attach ourselves to any idea, any cause…just to seek a purpose to lessen the pain of it. What if duty is nothing more than an idea to comfort us as we die?”

Alistair grabbed the bottle and took a drink. “I don’t know. I think there is more to it than that. Duty is more than just a justification for death. It is a code, to give our lives meaning. It keeps us all from being animals.”

“But is that enough?"

“Enough for what?"

“Enough to…sustain us? Enough to…shit, I don’t know what I am saying.” She let out a rueful laugh.

Alistair smiled, passing her the bottle. “Well, that’s new.” He rummaged through his bag for cheese and bread. “Duncan told me once that men swear vows to vocalize the things in their hearts. Even without the words, those feelings, those ideas would still be there. But the words give us a direction, remind us when we forget. They put us on a path.”

“But if a warrior’s path always leads to death, then what is the point?”

He shrugged. “Every path leads to death, eventually. For us…it’s just…well…a more exciting one.”

“And much shorter.”

“True.” He looked at her closely. “But I think dwelling on it is…unhealthy. It’s too easy to get lost in thoughts like that.”

She shrugged. “I guess. Still…it would be nice to get lost for a while.”

Alistair stood, holding his hand out to her. “C’mon. I want to show you something.”

She looked up at him questioningly. He was smiling at her with that irresistible crooked grin. She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet.

He led her up the hillside to the massive windmill that overlooked the village of Redcliffe. She held his hand as he led her up the dark stairwell to the top. There was a little tunnel that lead to a small balcony, jutting out just behind the spinning blades. The narrow ledge allowed a full few of the village below.

The blades rushed passed them, whipping Elissa’s hair about her face.

Alistair walked to the edge and leaned over the balustrade. “I used to come up here, at night sometimes. I would sit here and look through those blades and think about the future. I liked the quiet. It was like being lost. No one bothered me here. I would stare out through those spinning blades and I would make wishes and plan for the future.”

Elissa joined him, their shoulders almost touching as they looked over the village. “What did you wish for?”

Alistair dropped his head a little. “All kinds of things. Mostly, I wished I had a family.”

She smiled. “Really?”

“Yeah. It must sound pretty stupid to you. But I never…I never knew my mother. Or my father. I had a sister, but she left when I was born. I used to imagine that she would come back for me, rescue me.”

“But she never did.”

“No. So…I ended up in the Chantry. And then with the Grey Wardens. And now…I’m back here. It feels…strange.”

“Do you still wish for a family?”

“Nah. The Grey Wardens were my family, for a time. I thought about looking for my sister. But…with the Blight and all…it’s hard to say what will happen.”

“The future is a mystery.” She sighed. “It is beautiful up here. Thank you for sharing this with me.”

He smiled. “I thought you could use a break.”

They stood for a moment in silence. Elissa suddenly remembered the locket.

“Alistair, I have something for you. Isolde found it, in Eamon’s study.” She pulled it out of her pocket and handed it to him, watching his face closely. His eyes registered shock at first, then softened as he held it in his hands. He opened it carefully, tracing the small picture inside with his finger.

His voice was soft. “This…this is my mother.”

“Can I see?”

He held the locket up and she moved closer to him, her head next to his. They looked at the tiny portrait together.

“She was lovely, Alistair.”

He swallowed hard. “Eamon kept it? He must have found it and fixed it after I threw it against the wall. Why would he do that?”

Elissa placed her hand on his arm. “Maybe he cared about you more than you realized.”

Alistair was quiet for a few minutes. “Maybe he did.” He looked up at her, his amber eyes full of sadness. “I wish I could have known her. It’s…hard to miss someone you’ve never known. But I do. Silly, right?”

Elissa didn’t think about it. She just reached out and pulled him into her arms. She didn’t care about the awkwardness between them. She didn’t worry that he might read more into it. None of that mattered.

She just wanted hold him, to let him know he was not alone.

It angered her that someone like Alistair never had anyone to care for him. As a child, Elissa had a mother to hold her when she cried, a father to give her advice, a brother to pick her up when she fell down. And despite all the love she had been given, it was Alistair, the little boy who slept in stables and made wishes in windmills, who was truly…good.

As they held one another, Elissa realized for the first time in her life that despite all of her skill, despite her education, despite her privileges…nothing was more powerful than the ability to give comfort. It was so simple, and yet strangely powerful. She felt that same feeling when they held one another while the elves sang. Even though she reached out to him, on both occasions, she felt like he was comforting her. He couldn’t help it. His whole body radiated warmth and security.

She didn’t understand why, but having his arms around her made her forget the terrible dreams that had been plaguing her for weeks and it made her forget the guilt she felt over her family and over Roland and it made her forget the overwhelming sense of doom that seemed to follow her everywhere. And she didn’t have to say a word to explain it to him because something about the way he held her in return made her suspect that he knew it.

She closed her eyes and rested her head against his.

He whispered softly against her neck, “Thank you.”

She smiled against his hair. “You’re welcome.”

He pulled back and wiped his eyes, though Elissa didn’t see any tears. He gently closed the locket, placing it tenderly in his pocket.

They stood together in silence for a while, looking out over the village of Redcliffe. Elissa was mesmerized by the constant rise and fall of the blades, by the breeze it carried, by the creaking sound of the old wood. After a while, Alistair leaned back from the balustrade.

He cleared his throat. “Elissa. We haven’t really had a chance to talk after…after what happened on our way back here.”

Elissa gripped the balustrade, suddenly nervous. “Alistair…”

“Wait…just give me a minute here. I know that you and I don’t know each other very well. But…I’ve come to…care for you. A great deal. I don’t know if it’s just because we have been through so much together or…I mean…I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”

Elissa smiled, turning towards him. She couldn’t help herself. He was just so…innocent. “Oh? And what way is that?”

He shuffled his feet. “You aren’t going to make this easy, are you?”

Elissa laughed. “If it’s easy you want, then you are attempting to woo the wrong woman.”

Alistair smiled. “Alright then. I like a challenge.” He thought about it for a moment. “Well….I guess…I feel like you are really…important to me. I mean…I worry about you. And I think about you a lot. And I wonder what you are thinking sometimes, when you sit in silence. And it’s so strange because I feel like I can say anything to you and I _want_ to say all kinds of things to you and I want to…I just want to know you. And I have never wanted that before…with anyone. I just want the two of us to…know each other.”

Elissa turned her head from him, looking out over the village. Her heart was beating too fast for her to talk. She felt him move closer to her.

“I know this is sudden and I know you are a complicated person. I’m not just...it’s not like I am placing you on some weird pedestal or like I am idealizing you or anything like that. It’s just that…I have never wanted anyone to…want me before. And it is kind of terrifying to me.”

Elissa had no idea what to say. He was so sweet and honest and open. She had never met anyone like him. And it was kind of terrifying to her as well.

“Look…I’m not asking you for anything here. I get that you have to lead us and you have things you need to do and I am not trying to get in the way of any of that. But I just…I need to know.”

She swallowed. “Need to know what?”

“If you…I mean…could you…feel the same way about me?”

She turned to him. His eyes were wide and warm and she couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that he knew her better than he was admitting. “I honestly don’t know, Alistair. It…it’s too soon to tell.”

He nodded, though he looked pleased. “Fair enough. I won’t push…”

She leaned in and kissed him.

He made a surprised sound in the back of his throat. After moment, he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her in return.

His lips were warm and tender against hers. Elissa felt her heart speed up when he reached up and touched her neck, his fingertips softly grazing her skin. She moved her own hand to the back of his neck and he opened her mouth with his, timidly searching for her tongue. It was obvious he wasn’t very experienced, but what he lacked in technique he made up for in tenderness.

She wasn’t sure how long the kiss lasted. It may have been hours, or maybe it only felt that way because of how fast her heart was beating. When they finally pulled away from one another, both of them had flushed cheeks and were breathing heavily.

He smiled at her, his crooked grin irresistible. She felt like her cheeks were on fire.

He leaned forward slowly and rested his forehead against hers.

“So…does that mean yes?”

She smiled, closing her eyes and placing a hand on his chest.

“I don’t know what it means. But I want to do it again.”

She felt his chest move as he laughed softly. “Your desire is my command.”

They spent most of the night together, looking out over Redcliffe and talking, each story punctuated by a kiss or a touch or a laugh. Alistair was gentle and sweet and she could tell by his restraint that he wanted to take things slow. She didn’t mind.

He told her about growing up in Redcliffe and what the Chantry had been like. She told him about Highever and her family and what is was like to be a young noblewoman in the North of Ferelden.

Occasionally, she would lose the flow of their conversation and find herself staring out past the spinning blades. They were hypnotic, always moving with their own momentum, each blade falling and rising again in a seemingly never-ending cycle.

Alistair would inevitably stop talking and reach out to touch her shoulder, or her cheek. She would blink and turn to him, his concern bringing her back. He never asked her what she was thinking, and she was comforted by that.

She didn’t want to tell him that those spinning blades felt like they were mocking her. She didn’t want to tell him that she felt like falling was the natural state of her existence and that the only reason she didn’t plummet to the earth, the only reason she made it back up to the top each time, was because the momentum of someone else’s fall was constantly pulling her up. Just like those spinning blades.

She didn’t want to ruin the lovely moment they were sharing because she was utterly and completely terrified that she was falling too fast and if she wasn’t careful, if she didn’t find some way to save herself, she wouldn’t be able rise up again.

She just wanted him to hold her, to tell her his stories, to kiss her and touch her face and look at her with those adoring eyes.

And thankfully, that is exactly what he did.  


	28. The Old Ones

Irving pushed past the merchants who lined the streets of the Bastion market district. He was sweating profusely, and cursed the Antivan humidity. Beggars shook their empty grass bowls at him as he passed, their toothless cries lost amidst the shouts of leatherworkers and fishmongers. Small hands flitted inexpertly through his robes as he passed, jerking away quickly as he shocked them with a simple stunning spell. He was sure there were more talented cutpurses on the crowded street, but they had bigger prizes than a lowly Circle mage in tattered robes.

_Apostate. Technically, I am an apostate now. Or I will be, if Luthar wakes up and realizes I am gone._

_Maker help me._

He looked up at the tall wooden buildings, so crooked that he wondered if magic was involved in holding them up. Women shook their breasts at him from the upper levels, laughing and calling out to the men below. It was high summer and mid-afternoon, a combination that meant sweat and thirst and trouble on any Antivan street. Despite the crowds, business would be slow until autumn. Even the whores were desperate for trade.

Irving caught a glimpse of his destination. “The Blue Alley”, it was called by the locals, though technically the cloth dyers had silks and cloth of every color lining the street. But it was the royal blue that was their most treasured secret, the cloth that had adorned the Orlesian court for generations. Every store window, every stall boasted at least one item of this hue, though it would cost most buyers a year’s salary or more to purchase a single blue handkerchief.

The cloth muffled sound, and the Blue Alley felt strangely quiet and oppressive. The silks hung in long ribbons on each side of the street, but the there was no breeze to move them in the narrow alley. They hung in silence like colorful funeral shrouds. Irving tried to calm himself, but the sweat was making his robes stick to him and he felt like he was smothering. He sent up another silent prayer to the Maker.

_Let Luthar sleep until I return. Let this information be genuine. Let him be here._

He saw the building at the far end of the alley, low and dark and seemingly abandoned. He approached warily, letting his mana drift towards the building. Before he could probe it deeply, a young boy opened the door. He had dark skin and eyes the color of a crow.

He spoke slowly, with a thick Antivan accent. “Are you the mage?”

Irving swallowed. He was aware this could be a trap. The Kinloch mages were closely watched in Antiva, despite their compliment of templars. The Antivan circles did not trust the Ferelden ones, and vice versa. Such was tradition. But the new Knight Commander of Kinloch, a brash young man named Greagoir, was determined to facilitate mutual cooperation between the Circles of Thedas. He designed an exchange program for both templars and mages to travel and learn from one another. Orlais refused to commit without proof that the program worked. Antiva was more inclined to try…but everyone knew that Antivans were mad.

Thus, Irving found himself and four other mages on a boat to Antiva to visit the Bastion Circle for a single year. His assigned templar, Luthar, despised Antiva, and blamed Irving for his year-long exile in what he referred to as the most depraved land in Thedas.

_Lucky for him we were not sent to Rivain._

The templar’s anger was not misplaced. Irving’s spell of suggestion had taken a full month to take hold in the Commander. It was dangerous work, and he had almost been caught a few times by templars walking into the office as he worked on Greagoir’s mind, planting suggestions and weaving the particulars in a way that assured the young Commander would think the entire scheme his own idea. He didn’t feel particularly bad about it. The exchange program would undoubtedly be a huge success and would ultimately help his fellow mages. But Irving’s true motives were more personal.

He had to find the Antivan. And this was the only way.

He convinced Luthar that he needed to go to the market district for herbs. Luthar was a good templar…and also had a soft spot for ale. Getting him to stop at the tavern for a drink had not been hard. Spelling the tavern girl to add the sleeping draught to Luthar’s ale without him noticing had been difficult. Carrying him up to the room to sleep it off had been near impossible. Irving was mage, after all, not a farm hand.

_It is done. If he wakes before I return, then I will be hunted. No use worrying about it now._

He took a deep breath. He nodded, and the boy motioned for him to follow.

After a series of long hallways, Irving found himself face to face with the Antivan.

The Antivan sat cross-legged on a large pillow on the floor. The room was long and mostly empty, except for the tea-cup that sat on the floor next to him and a narrow table that held a washbasin and a jug of water. He looked different, older, his long black hair now streaked with silver. Of course, Irving was a young man when he last saw the old crow. His own hair was starting to thin a bit on top. It was only natural that the Antivan would show signs of aging as well.

_We all grow old eventually._

Despite his age, the Antivan had lost none of his vitality. He still radiated the same power that had drawn Irving to him when he was a mere boy. His cool grey eyes regarded Irving with amusement, though he did not smile.

“So…the Ferelden mage-child has grown up. Poisoning templars now? I am surprised. You were always such a noble young man.”

Irving shifted uncomfortably. “Hello Vanithan. It has been a long time.”

“Has it?” Vanithan stood. He walked over to the table and picked up the jug of water, pouring it slowly into the basin. “Time is water, mage-child. Do you remember so little of my teachings?”

Irving squared his shoulders. “I remember everything, Master Vanithan. It is your ability to teach that has brought me on this dangerous journey.”

Vanithan washed his hands in the basin. “It is your captors who have brought you to this land. I am just a small stop on a path that has been chosen for you by others. It is an insult for you to involve me in anything you do, prisoner.”

Irving took a deep breath. “It was my choice to join the Circle.”

Vanithan signaled to the boy to bring him a towel. He dried his hands slowly, speaking to Irving without looking at him. “You are a coward. With the skills I taught you, you could have evaded capture forever. You could have helped your fellow mages, used my teachings to train them to control their powers. Now, you are gelded.”

Irving bit his tongue. “I chose to go to the Circle to help them from within. Your teachings have not gone to waste.”

Vanithan placed the towel on the table. He turned his back on Irving, clasping his hands behind him. “And yet you still come to me, after all these years. You wish for me to aid you. I taught you to stand alone. Uno contro il mondo. The fact that you seek my help at all only proves that I failed.”

“I come on behalf of another. A child who needs you.”

“I am done with mage children. You were the last.”

“She is not a mage. But she is…unique.”

Vanithan turned to face him. “How so?”

Irving lowered his voice. “La mente tranquilla.”

Vanithan raised his eyebrows. “Impossible.”

Irving crossed his arms. “Nothing is impossible. Or have you forgotten your own teachings?”

“How old?”

“She is but a child. A remarkable child, who needs your help.”

“How has she been able to survive?”

“Her parents are noble, and they love her a great deal. The Couslands…a powerful Ferelden family. The child already has some limited ability to control it. That is why they have been able to hide it for so long. But that time is running out. She needs a teacher. She needs you.”

Vanithan eyed him shrewdly. “There are others who could help the child. Why would you risk so much to find me?”

“Because I know what you can do. And I know what drives you. Others would take advantage of her, use her for their own gain.”

“Is that not precisely what you want to do?”

Irving clenched his fists. “I would never hurt another to further my own goals. But if her abilities are as strong as I suspect, then we all stand to gain from her survival.”

Vanithan resumed his place on the pillow. He picked up his tea cup and took a small sip. “I will think on it.”

“Don’t think too long. The parents are desperate. You must find a way to get your name to their ear. I cannot be involved. The risk is too great.”

Vanithan shook his head. “Again…my teachings have failed.” Vanithan signaled for the young boy to show Irving out. “When the prize is worth it, there is no such thing as risk.”

<<>>

“First Enchanter?”

Irving shook his head, the memory dissolving as quickly as it came. Lady Isolde stood before him, wringing her hands in fear.

“Is Connor…will he…?”

Irving smiled. “The boy will be fine, Lady Isolde. I was able to break the demon’s hold on him, thanks to my fellow mages.” He motioned to the others. “However, the ritual has left us all very tired. Might I ask for a few nights hospitality while we recover?”

“Of course…I…yes…I…there is also Eamon to consider…” The lady could not continue, dropping her face into her hands and weeping uncontrollably.

Irving reached out and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “My dear lady, the boy will recover in time. I will train him personally to control his magic, you have my word. And I will do all I can for your husband.”

Isolde looked up at him, the gratitude clear on her face. “Thank you, First Enchanter. I will…I will never forget your kindness to me.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. Irving heard the shocked sounds from the onlookers. He was shocked himself. It was a strange thing for a noblewoman to kiss the cheek of a mage.

But the lady did not notice. She spoke quickly. “Can I see him now? Is it safe?”

Irving bowed his head. “It will not be safe until the boy learns to control his powers…and that may take a long time.” Isolde’s lip trembled. Irving cleared his throat. “But…perhaps one of the templars can accompany you to his room for a short visit. He will need to be under constant guard until we reach Kinloch. He may as well get used to having a templar by his side. ”

Isolde’s face lit up. “Yes…I understand.” She looked to the templars expectantly. With a nudge from Irving, one of the younger templars bowed to her and offered his arm to escort her. As they left the hall to seek out the boy, Isolde motioned to her servants to attend to the mages. Wynne accompanied Irving as he made his way to his room.

“I did not realize the ritual would take so much out of you, Irving. With four mages to help keep the Fade stable, I assumed you would have little trouble with a single desire demon.”

He offered her his arm. “It had it's claws in deep. I had to earn the boy’s trust before he would listen. You know how stubborn the young are.”

Wynne smiled, accepting his arm. “Yes. And I know how persuasive you are when it comes to the young. What aren’t you telling me?”

Irving smiled. “You know me too well, Wynne. The truth is…I need some time. Just a day or two.”

“For what?”

Irving patted her hand. “Time is water, Wynne. We always need more.”

Wynne shook her head. “It is the girl, isn’t it? The Cousland girl. I know you are interested in her for some reason. Why else would you come personally on such a simple mission when the Circle needs you so desperately?”

Irving shrugged. “As I said, time is water. It does not stop flowing for our whims and when it plunges over a cliff, we either adapt or drown. The timing is not ideal, but it is the only chance I may have.”

“Chance for what?”

“Tell me about her.”

Wynne sighed. “She is very brave. Foolish and brave, like any young warrior.”

“You sound as if you disapprove.”

“I am an old woman. I always sound that way.”

Irving laughed, then looked at her seriously. “She troubles you. Why?”

“Because she troubles you.”

“I am an old man. I am always troubled by something. There is more to it, Wynne. You are not easily shaken.”

Wynne shook her head again. “On the way here, her knight…the tall one with the red hair…he was attacked by a mage. Cassius, the one who used to follow Harlen around like a lost puppy.”

“I remember him. A difficult young man. Too angry for his own good.”

“Yes…and desperate for revenge after what happened to Harlen, no doubt. He escaped the tower somehow and came upon the two of them. His spell almost ripped the knight in half.” Wynne took a deep breath. “I heard the girl scream. Her pain…it was almost as if… her pain travelled through the Veil.”

Irving touched her arm. “What else?”

“I attempted to heal him, but his heart stopped. There was nothing I could do. She was…upset. She hit him and…”

“Tell me, Wynne.”

“I felt her mana…swirling. Churning. It…I cannot explain it.”

“Try.”

“It seemed…it felt as if she were reaching into his mind. Pulling him back. Her mana was…I don’t know…clawing at the fabric of the Fade, reaching in to find him. She is no mage, Irving. And yet…”

Irving tried to hide his excitement. “Go on.”

“It’s almost as if…she…could separate herself from her own mana. Like she could reach through it…or perhaps…shut it off. I don’t know. I was too shocked to understand what was happening.”

Irving tired not to tremble. “It worked, didn’t it? She brought him back.”

“Barely. His heart started again. Of course, it is possible that beating him on his chest restarted it. I have heard of it happening. In any case, I was able to heal him.” She looked at him seriously. “You know what it is, don’t you?”

Irving shook his head. “Perhaps. But I cannot speak of it now. You must not tell anyone else about this. Not even her. Do I have your word?”

“Of course, but…”

“The world is full of mysteries, Wynne. Some beautiful, some terrible, but more often than not, something in between. And understanding them is like trying to swim through dark water. In time, it may all become clear to us. But for now…we must watch and listen and choose our actions with the utmost care. The Blight is coming…that is what matters more than anything right now. The rest will have to wait.”

Wynne nodded in agreement. “Irving…there is more. The young woman she travels with…the girl, Morrigan. She is an apostate. Her magic is…that is to say, she is extremely skilled for one so young. Whoever trained her was old and powerful, I am sure of it. I think we should tell the templars.”

“No. That is not our place.”

“But…we believe in the Circle, Irving! We believe in what it stands for!”

“No. We believe in what it _could_ be. But I will not force the mage to come against her will. Look at what happens when we fill the Circles with those who choose their freedom over their duty. It weakens the Circle from the inside, like a disease. And I need the Circle to be strong if we are to have any chance to rebuild. If the girl is not willing, then she should go on as she has.”

Wynne was not happy. “There is more to it, Irving. The apostate is close to the Cousland girl. I have seen them speaking together. The girl trusts her. I do not.”

Irving considered her words. “Then perhaps you should stay with the girl to protect her from the witch’s influence.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Wynne…you already swore before the King of Ferelden to fight the Blight. Just because the battle of Ostagar was lost does not mean you are released from that sacred duty. You know who the boy is, yes?”

“He is Maric’s bastard.” Wynne stopped walking, turning to face him. “You don’t mean…”

“Technically your allegiance is now to him.”

“He is not the King!”

“That is true. But he very well may end up on the throne. And he will need counsel. They all will.” He shook his head. “They are all so young. They need you, Wynne, whether they know it or not. The group has no healer, no one to offer true wisdom and guidance. I would go if I could but the Circle needs me.” Irving laughed. “For the first time in all my years there, I feel trapped. Perhaps the Antivan was right.”

“Who?”

“It does not matter. You must travel with the wardens, Wynne. You must represent the Circle in this matter. There is no one more suitable.”

“The Circle is my home, Irving. I am needed there.”

Irving placed his hands on her shoulders. “We have known each other a long time Wynne. Your bones cry out for adventure.”

“I am an old woman, Irving. My bones cry out because they ache.”

Irving laughed. “Trust me, Wynne. I will take care of the Circle until you return. What the Circle needs most from you is to be a part of this fight on our behalf. We cannot sit by and do nothing. If we do that…then the Circle is no more than a prison after all. And I do not want to believe that. I cannot.”

Wynne nodded, resigned. “Very well. I will join them and offer what aid I can.”

Irving smiled. “I knew I could count on you Wynne.”

She looked at Irving seriously. “Will you tell me nothing of what you know about her?”

Irving shook his head. “That is just it, Wynne. I know very little. The water is still dark. It will take time for all to become clear.”

Wynne smiled. “Well then…lucky for us that I grew up on the shores of Lake Calanhad. And I am a very strong swimmer.”


	29. The Young Ones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one, but it has been a while since I posted. Hope you like it! Oh...and pucker up. There is a lemon at the end! ;)

The wind shrieked with a savage sound and Elissa’s hair lashed against her cheeks. The bottom of her long dress lifted around her, casting shadows like dark water on the walls of the stairwell.

Her bare feet slapped against the wood, but she could barely hear her footsteps above the howling wind. She continued climbing, the wind swirling though the narrow stairwell with unnatural force. She moved slowly, placing her hands against the damp stones for support.

She could hear the creaking groan of the windmill blades, churning beyond the confines of their construction.

Upon reaching the narrow ledge, she took a deep breath. The blades were spinning madly against the dark sky and a shudder traveled through the building’s frame. She stepped forward, close enough to reach out and touch them.

Ash settled on her dress like grey snow. She looked at it in wonder, the realization of what it meant coming slowly.

Redcliffe was burning.

The world below was full of flame. Elissa could hear the screams of terrified villagers, as if the blades were amplifying sound. They continued spinning, gaining speed and moaning violently. The floor beneath her feet trembled.

She watched it all in silent fascination.

Without warning, the blades began to crack, the axis that held them ripping from the side of the mill with a sickening groan. She watched in horror as the wheel fell, the blades spinning until they crashed to the earth below.

She looked up and saw stars through the smoke, but only for an instance.

The dark sky filled with movement. A piercing cry filled the valley. But beneath that cry was a voice. A voice that only she could hear.

 _I am your death_ , it whispered.

The dark shape became form. The beast was flying towards her, its large wings beating mercilessly against the smoke from the ruined village. It was massive, its monstrous body filling the sky.

The dragon’s golden eyes were locked onto hers, intelligent and menacing.

 _There is no escape, Warden_.

The dragon opened its mouth, a ball of fire forming in its throat.

Elissa was frozen, standing in the gaping hole at the top of the mill. Her death was coming for her.

She clenched her fists.

_So be it._

The ball of flame left the dragon’s mouth, racing towards her. She lifted her arms towards it in a mixture of acceptance and defiance.

_Let it end, then._

She felt arms encircle her, pulling her back from the ledge. She felt his heartbeat, frantic against her back, his breath warm against her neck.

She watched as the flame shot past her, crashing into the side of the mill. Tendrils of steam from the damp walls reached their ghostly fingers towards the sky. The dragon shrieked in dismay, gaining height to come round for another attack.

As she struggled against the strong arms that held her, the earnest voice of her protector spoke against her ear.

“Wake up.”

*****

Elissa woke with a start. Wynne’s firm hand was on her shoulder, her clear blue eyes looking down at her with concern. “I know you need sleep, Lady Cousland, but I thought it best to wake you. Wherever you were, it was not pleasant.”

Elissa’s voice was heavy with exhaustion. “It never is.” It took her a moment to realize where she was. The large feather bed seemed to have swallowed her, the heavy down blanket wrapped around her like a cocoon. She managed to get free, sitting up and running her fingers through her hair.

She tried to shake the terrible dream from her thoughts. “What time is it?”

Wynne stood straight. “Late morning. You missed breakfast, and if you do not hurry, you will be late for your meeting with the _honorable_ Bann Hessal.”

Elissa groaned, pulling herself from the soft bed. She looked at Wynne pleadingly. The old mage looked at her in mock sternness, before cracking a small smile and tossing her a warm biscuit. Elissa ate it quickly, pacing through the room to try to get feeling back into her numb legs.

She and Zevran had accompanied Teagan’s men on a tour of the outer fortifications the previous day. It had taken most of the afternoon, and the hours of walking with the tireless knights had left her whole body sore. The trip had been worth it…they found several places in desperate need of repairs.

She crammed the last bit of bread into her mouth and leaned over the washbasin, splashing the tepid water on her face.

Wynne handed her a small towel, and she grunted in gratitude. Fully awake, she looked at Wynne suspiciously. “I assume you had more in mind with this wake-up call than bringing me breakfast. Out with it.”

The old mage straightened her shoulders, the serious look on her face almost comical. “I came to inform you that I am done with that knight of yours. His moodiness is understandable…men of action often make terrible patients, especially when confined to a bed. But this latest act of defiance borders on idiocy.”

Elissa pulled the thin linen shift over her head and headed to her wardrobe. The room was chilly, and she began to dress quickly. “Considering the reason for his injury, I wonder at your surprise. What has he done this time?”

Wynne’s voice was full of annoyance. “First of all, he had the gall to station a servant in front of his door to inform me that he no longer requires my care.”

Elissa stifled a laugh, pulling on her doe-skin breeches. “I am sure you have the skills to overcome a mere servant, Wynne.”

Wynne sniffed. “I did nothing to the guard, though I was sorely tempted. He was little more than a child, but very loyal to your knight. Surprising, considering the short acquaintance.”

Elissa shrugged. “Roland was Captain of the Guard at Highever. He knows how to win the hearts of his men.”

Wynne sniffed. “If you say so. I am surprised that anyone can bear being in the same room with him. I have never a met a more unpleasant person in all of my life. He either broods in silence or growls at me. Neither mood is particular appealing.”

Elissa smiled. “Roland doesn’t waste energy on charm, that’s for sure. But he speaks his mind. You’ll learn to appreciate that, in time. He is also a much nicer person when he is not stuck in a bed.” Elissa tucked her shirt into her pants. “I can’t believe you didn’t even spark up a stunning spell for the door guard. What a waste!”

Wynne looked stern. “Magic is not a toy, Lady Cousland. The presence of mages here is already upsetting the townsfolk. Besides, it is not the lad’s fault that Roland is an impossible patient.”

“I can’t imagine it is flattering to be denied entrance to a man’s bedroom. Come on, admit it! That’s is what’s really bothering you, isn’t it?” Elissa winked at her and began combing her hair, twisting it into a bun. She knew she should show Wynne more respect, but she couldn’t help herself. There was such a mixture of matronly old lady and stern schoolmistress in Wynne…it brought out her playful nature.

Wynne put her hands on her hips. “If you can contain your wit long enough, you may be interested to know that Roland sent word to the quartermaster to have practice blades ready for this morning.”

Elissa’s hand froze in her hair, her grip tightening around the pin in her hand. Her good mood disappeared. She cursed. “Idiot! He is not yet fully healed!”

Wynne shrugged. “No, he is not. But aside from terrifying a young servant, busting down his door, and using spells to subdue him, I could not very well stop him. Besides, if he will listen to anyone, it’s you.”

Elissa sat on the bed, lacing her boots. “He only listens to me when it suits him.” She stomped her foot as she stood. “What is he thinking?”

Wynne shrugged. “I doubt he is thinking at all.” She handed Elissa her belt. “You may also want to know that more refugees from Lothering arrived this morning. Two wagons, I believe. Do you wish to meet with them as well?”

Elissa rubbed her temples. “I suppose I must. I owe them that much.”

She opened the trunk that contained her new armor. She ran her fingers over the seams of the leather cuirass…a gift from Isolde. The armor was exquisite, molded with great skill and comprised of overlapping leather plates that gave it a scaled appearance. A willow tree was etched into the uppermost plate, directly over the heart. It was the sigil of the Arlessa’s maiden house, the words “Deep roots, strong branches” stitched in Orlesian script below the tree. According to Isolde, the armor was a gift she received from her mother on her sixteenth birthday. She had insisted that Elissa take the armor. Elissa only accepted because she needed something formal to wear for meetings with the nobility…and it was better than a silk dress.

It was good armor, despite the dainty accouterments. Zevran grew up in the leatherworking district of Antiva, and his admiration convinced Elissa of its value. The shoulder guards were styled with the same overlapping scales as the chest piece, and when Elissa wore them she looked like a bird getting ready to take flight.

Although it was beautiful and fit her surprisingly well, a part of her still felt like she was dressing up as someone else.

Elissa sighed. “I will need to dress in full regalia again today, Wynne. I must play the part, after all.” She rubbed her eyes. “A few more hours of sleep would have helped. It’s going to be a long day.”

Wynne opened the door, looking back at her with no little pity. “Isn’t it always?” _  
_

<<>> 

Alistair sat in silence, watching the constant rise and fall of Eamon’s chest. There was something strangely hypnotic about it, and he found it hard to look away.

It was difficult to look at Eamon’s face. He was pale and thin, his cheeks slightly sunken, his grey beard like spiderwebs on his face. It contrasted sharply with Alistair’s memory of him. Eamon was always so vibrant, so strong and diligent. The sleeping man looked like a stranger.

The room was too quiet, and Alistair shifted uncomfortably. He cleared his throat.

“We are making good progress with the Banns. Elissa is determined to get as much support as possible before we leave. Redcliffe will be safe. I promise.”

The Arl’s chest continued to move up and down. Alistair felt foolish for speaking aloud to him. He had no idea if the Arl could even hear him or not. But it helped to speak, to fill the silent room with a sound other than Eamon's labored breathing.

“I wish you could meet her. She…she is special. Beautiful and strong and smart. Her eyes are so deep and dark…it is like…looking into the ocean. No…that’s not right. It’s more…like looking into the sky at midnight. Like seeing something that is far away but somehow right in front of you at the same time. ”

The morning sun started to creep across the floor. Alistair knew he should leave. He had to meet Teagan and Elissa soon. But he hesitated.

Alistair shifted again. “I…I told her who I was. I mean…I told her who my father was. She doesn’t look at me differently. I feel like…like I can trust her.”

Eamon did not move.  His chest continued rising and falling.

Alistair leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He dropped his voice. “I…I think I…I love her, Eamon. I never thought I would love anyone, but I do. I haven’t told her yet. I…I am not sure how say it without sounding like a fool.” He laughed. “I could really use your advice.”

The shaft of sunlight began to creep up the side of the bed.

“We have to leave soon. I know you are going to get better. You have to. And we will return...and...then you can meet her.”

He heard movement behind him and stood quickly. Isolde walked into the room. She looked pale and tired. Though she barely glanced at him, Alistair immediately tensed up. “Forgive me, Isolde. I just wanted to check on him.”

Isolde shook her head. “I am not angry, Alistair. I am…too tired to be angry.” She walked past him and touched Eamon’s forehead. Her fingers shook slightly.

She sighed, her voice quiet and full of misery. “What will I do if he does not wake?”

Alistair dropped his head. “He will. I know he will.”

Isolde shook her head, still looking at Eamon. “There is only one thing that can help him.”

Alistair took a deep breath. He knew what she wanted, but it was ridiculous. “Isolde…it is a legend. The ashes…”

Isolde turned to him quickly, shaking her head emphatically. She grabbed his shoulders. It was the first time she had ever touched him, and he had to force himself to stand still and allow her to do it. There was a hint of madness in her eyes, and her cheeks were flushed. “There was a scholar who stayed with us for a time. Brother Genetivi. He was certain that the ashes were real. He had proof! You must find him in Denerim. You must seek out the ashes. It is the only way Eamon will survive.”

Alistair shook his head, moving away from her touch. “Isolde, you have to think logically.”

Isolde straightened her shoulders, looking at him hard. “You owe him, Alistair. He gave you a home, an education. He loved you. Sometimes I think he loved you more than Connor.”

Alistair was embarrassed and angry. He knew that wasn't true...it was unfair to both Eamon and him. He should have expected as much...Isolde had never been fair where he was concerned. Nonetheless, he knew that she was suffering, and he didn’t want to argue with her.

He took a deep breath. “You sent your knights to seek out the ashes and they found nothing. Those knights should have been here to protect the village. It was a dangerous gamble and it did not pay off in the end.”

“I had to send them away! The demon would have killed them. Teagan has already sent messengers to call them back. You are Eamon’s last hope. If you do not find Brother Genetivi, if you do not find Andraste's ashes…then he will die!”

Alistair sighed. “We do not have time to look for legends, Isolde! We have to gather an army. I am sorry but…there is nothing I can do.”

Isolde crossed her arms in front of her chest. She looked at him a long moment, her mouth turned down in distaste. “I should have expected as much from a bastard.”

Alistair flinched as if she slapped him. His cheeks burned. He considered telling her the truth about who he was. It wasn't the first time he thought of doing it. Maybe she would understand if she knew the truth. 

_But she is right. I am a bastard, either way. And I cannot help the Arl, even if I wanted to.  
_

He stared at her until she dropped her eyes. It was the best he could do. Words failed him, and he knew that no matter what he said, she would hate him anyway. With nothing to say, he turned, and left the room.

<<>> 

Elissa drummed her fingers on the Arl’s desk. She tried to focus on the rhythm of the soft thuds, breathing slowly in and out through her nose.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

It was a good technique, one of the many suggested to her by the ever-vigilant Wynne. She would have to remember to thank the old mage for recommending it. Without that sound to distract her, there was a very real possibility that she would leap the desk and throttle the man who sat across from her.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

It was not merely Wynne’s disapproval that stayed her hand. Attacking a nobleman would no doubt further damage her already tenuous reputation. The people of Redcliffe had not quite forgiven her for sentencing their Arlessa to die, despite Leliana’s subtle campaign to win them over with songs of her subsequent deeds.

_Our bard can certainly spin a story. She tells all who will listen of how I led the charge to fight demons, facing down rebellious mages and restoring the world to proper order. Of course, she never mentions the heads that rolled through the tower or the blood that was caked under my fingernails._

Elissa shivered slightly, an image of bloody hands flashing through her mind.

_At least I have no real memory of it. Thank the Maker for small mercies._

She focused once again on the tapping of her fingers.

She had no wish to further antagonize anyone, especially since Redcliffe would act as the strategic base for gathering allies and supplies. Its central position in Ferelden meant that it lay between the horde and the most populated areas of the realm. Redcliffe and its fortifications would be essential to putting an end to the advance of the darkspawn.

_Alistair was right. It seems that the fate of Redcliffe is indeed the fate of all Ferelden._

With the Arl still unconscious, it was up to Elissa to unite the surrounding noble houses under a common cause. Day after day she sat at the Arl’s desk and met with representatives. Some were eager to join, swayed by her standing as a Grey Warden. A few wished to lend aid, but preferred to wait for the Arl’s recovery before fully committing. Others had stronger ties to Denerim and were hesitant to join forces, requiring either threat or bribery.

Elissa’s patience was wearing thin. Her temper had almost lost a few alliances already, though thankfully more diplomatic minds had been there smooth negotiations. In truth, her determination to remain calm had less to do with her desire to secure this particular alliance and more to do with pride.

_I need to prove that I can get through a single meeting without breaking anything._

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

She leaned back in her chair. The men on either side of her would have something to say about yet another outburst. She was accustomed to reading their silent signals after many hours in their company. Teagan, who sat on her left, signaled his dismay by shifting his body weight, and his agreement by clearing his throat. Alistair, who sat on her right, was less subtle. He would mash her foot with his when he disagreed with her and smile openly when he approved.

Teagan stretched his neck and Alistair placed his hand on the table near hers. They both had the same message.

_Stay calm. Do not let your temper get the better of you. Again._

Elissa sighed. Bann Hessal continued droning on, the sound of his high-pitched voice piercing her sleep-deprived head like a knife. This was their third meeting with the man in as many days, and his refusal to commit one way or another was infuriating. Every snide remark that fell from his red lips was accompanied by the quivering of his substantial jowls. Elissa longed to sink her fingers into his fat neck and squeeze until his beady eyes popped from his skull.

_Be calm. Don’t let him bait you._

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

She glanced behind her shoulder at Leliana, who stood regarding the man with a practiced smile on her face. The bard tried to give Elissa pointers on how to school her own features into a similar apathetic mask. Apparently, everything Elissa thought or felt showed on her face for the world to see.

_And why shouldn’t it? I am a warrior, after all…not a creature of the shadows._

Her lips twitched up at the thought, and she turned her head towards the far corner of the room. Zevran stood with his foot propped against one of the Arl’s many bookshelves, slowly sharpening his knife. The presence of a bard and assassin in negotiations had been another one of Wynne’s ideas. The old mage knew a thing or two about diplomacy, and Elissa eagerly headed her advice in the matter.

Having both Leliana and Zevran in the room did indeed make their group look more formidable. Leliana knew just what to say in certain situations to give the nobles pause. Zevran unnerved them with his savage tattoos and pointed ears alone.

Zevran’s body was relaxed, but his sharp eyes were alert, glinting in the partial shadows where he stood. When he noticed her looking his way, he smiled and gave her a wink.

Alistair nudged her foot with his, relaying his silent message of disapproval. _Pay attention, Warden. And oh, in case you didn’t know it already, I don’t like you making eyes at your flirtatious assassin friend._

Elissa reigned in a desire to give Alistair’s foot a good stomp in reply. She tried to catch Alistair’s eye, but he was steadily avoiding her, nodding politely as he pretended to listen to the wind-bag Bann. Elissa teased him mercilessly when they were alone, and his jealousy over Zevran always resulted in a bout of adorable stammering. But now was not the time.

Alistair finally looked at her, his eyebrows raised in expectation. She shook her head, puzzled, until she realized Bann Hessal had finally finished speaking.

She stopped tapping her fingers and looked towards the nobleman. She attempted the small smile Leliana taught her. The Bann’s beady eyes regarded her suspiciously. She gave up the attempt at feigned pleasantries and crossed her arms instead.

“Bann Hessal, we understand your concerns and your caution is not without merit. It is obvious that you care a great deal for the welfare of you men, and that is an admirable trait in any leader. Nonetheless, those men are sworn to serve Ferelden.”

Bann Hessal waved his hand in dismissal. “My men are sworn to answer to the King should such a need arise. And yet, there is no King here. Only a rag-tag council of outlaws.”

Elissa clenched her jaw. Alistair spoke quickly. “We may be that, Bann Hessal. But you have to admit, we get the job done.” He flashed a cocky grin.

Hessal’s jowls quivered as he laughed. “Your prowess cannot be denied, young man. However, you will soon leave the lands around Lake Calandad to sell your story to the rest of Ferelden’s nobility. And you expect me to submit my men to the command of Bann Teagan while you are gone? It is most irregular.”

Bann Teagan spoke up. “These are not regular times, Bann Hessal. We need to mobilize the warriors around Lake Calanhad to reinforce Redcliffe’s defenses. Our stronghold is all that stands between the darkspawn horde and rest of Ferelden.”

The Bann sniffed. “So you say. My sources tell me that the horde has stopped advancing altogether, and have set up camp on the ruined lands to the south. They will most likely go back underground now that their raid is finished.”

Alistair shook his head. “They are waiting for the archdemon.”

The Bann rolled his eyes dramatically. “More Grey Warden nonsense, is it? There have been no reports of a dragon, yet you insist on this inevitability. Prophecy and old treaties are all you bring, young man. It takes more than that to bargain with me.”

Elissa clenched her jaw. “I did not realize we were bargaining, ser. Just how much does your honor cost?”

Teagan almost growled as he shifted in his chair and Alistair mashed her foot with all of his weight.

The Bann’s beady eyes narrowed. “How dare you address me in that tone? I was protecting this realm from Chasind savages when you were a mere bade, Lady Cousland. You would do well to show me proper respect.”

Elissa stood, ignoring the shifting and foot stomping of her companions. “I do not treat with cowards, ser. If you will not supply your men, then those who survive this fight will see you for what you are. If that is a gamble you wish to take, so be it. But know this…cowardice marks a family for generations. While your past victories may protect your own reputation, are you so eager to bargain with the future of your sons?”

The Bann stood, his great jowls flapping in displeasure. “I do not have to suffer such language nor such threats! I will take my men and leave you and this wretched village to fend for itself!”

Bann Teagan stood quickly. “Please, Bann Hessal! Do not make a hasty decision. You have always been treated fairly by my brother. He regards you as both an ally and a man of honor. Surely you will not leave his household in such a state of need?”

The fat Bann crossed his arms. “Your brother would never have allowed a woman such as this to treat with his Banns! I heard the stories of how she publicly humiliated Isolde, listening to the council of that…that _mage_! And you expect me to join forces with you and risk the hammer of Loghain falling upon my family? This whole thing stinks of rebellion. Eamon would not approve, Teagan. You would be wise to be done with these…rabble rousers! ”

Teagan’s tone took on an edge of coolness, though he raised his hands in supplication. “Eamon would agree that survival is more important than our egos, Hessal. Surely fighting the Blight means more than our petty grievances?”

The Bann sniffed noncommittally, and Teagan continued. “You have seen the Lothering refugees with your own eyes…heard their stories of despair. The horde is coming, archdemon or no. We need to work together. We need to prepare.”

The Bann huffed. “Perhaps. I will make no promises today.” He looked pointedly at Elissa. “I find the company is not to my liking.” He threw his cape across his shoulder, motioning to his guards. “I will dine with you this evening, Teagan. Perhaps then we can speak as…reasonable men.”

Teagan bowed. “Your patience is appreciated, Bann Hessal.”

The Bann bowed stiffly towards Teagan and shot Elissa a look full of loathing before leaving the room with his men. Teagan dropped his head let out a long sigh. “Lady Cousland. I know you don’t like to be told what to do, but…”

Elissa held up her hand. “I know…and I apologize. I let my temper get the better of me.” She turned to him. “I am trying, Teagan. But that man is insufferable.”

Teagan smiled and shook his head. “It is not completely your fault. Hessal has always been a pompous buffoon. I wish we didn’t have to deal with him at all, but we need him. The best fighting men belong to him and his lands have points of major strategic importance. Without his aid and access to his lands, our supply lines will be all but cut off.”

Leliana spoke up. “The Bann is well aware of how much you need him. That is why he remains, despite the threat of being seen as a rebel. He seeks to have his coffers filled or, barring that, promises of additional lands or titles for his heirs. No one reaches his position of affluence and power without knowing how to come out ahead in such times.”

Elissa cracked her knuckles. “We could just kill him.”

Teagan looked shocked. Alistair spoke quickly. “She is joking, Teagan. She spends too much time with Zevran. Antivans have a…unique sense of humor.”

Zevran spoke from the shadows. “Joke or not, it is worth consideration. The Bann’s son is more pliable, it seems, and he thirsts for battle. I overheard him and his younger brother speaking of Loghain’s policy with disgust. With the fat Bann gone, the sons will likely join us.”

Alistair shook his head. “They won’t be very happy if we kill their father, will they? And what of the knights loyal to the Bann? We need the people on our side as much as the nobles. We can’t just kill everyone that disagrees with us.”

Zevran shrugged. “It always works for me.”

Alistair rolled eyes. “Hmpf. Is that why you are on the run from your former employer and hiding out with one of your targets?”

Zevran laughed. “Technically, I am in this bind because I did _not_ kill. Had I ended your lives as planned, I would be drowning in wine and women now.”

Elissa smiled. “And miss all this fun? You would be miserable and you know it.”

Leliana spoke up. “I agree with Alistair. Killing Hessal will lose more support than it will gain. We need to figure out what he wants, that is all. Pay his price, and he will give us what we need.”

Teagan nodded, though he didn’t look convinced. “Eamon could always get him to yield without bribes or gold, but I have no idea how he did it.” He sighed. “I wish the mages could do more for my brother. His word would unite the Calanhad Banns without question, and likely win other noble houses to our cause.”

Alistair stood. “We all feel the absence of Eamon keenly, Teagan. But we must carry on.”

Teagan sighed again. “I would just bribe Hessal and be done with it, but we need what little gold we have for our defenses. And I cannot promise lands or titles without Eamon’s consent.” He rubbed his head, the exhaustion clear on his face. “With Loghain set against us, we have more than darkspawn to worry about. We have to try to win support while keeping our plans secret. We must assure that our allies are truly loyal. Creating flimsy alliances will do little more than call the wrath of Denerim upon us.”                                            

Elissa walked to the decanter and poured a glass of wine. “Leliana and Zevran are doing their best to solve that problem with their…unique skills. They have already rooted out some of Loghain’s spies in the surrounding villages.”

Alistair shrugged. “That’s all well and good for the time being. But we need to go to Denerim if we are to have any chance of getting the large-scale support we need.”

Leliana nodded. “He is right. That’s where the important secrets are. That’s where the money is.”

Elissa took a long drink of wine. “And that is where Loghain’s power is strongest. I don’t know if we are ready for Denerim yet.”

Teagan looked at her. “You have other plans then?”

Elissa took another drink. “Orzammar has the largest army in Ferelden. If we can get the dwarves to honor the treaties, then we will have the manpower to rival Loghain’s.”

“I don’t know,” said Alistair the edges of his mouth turning up into a grin. “If you mean pound per pound, then we would still be at a disadvantage. Dwarves are too short to weigh all that much.”

Elissa returned his smile. “True. But it is more than their army that I want. Dwarven merchants go everywhere. Information will pass swiftly to us if we have them on our side. Goods will also be easier to come by."

Teagan nodded his head slowly. “That is a fair point, Lady Cousland. But you must not abandon your work with the Ferelden nobility. No amount of manpower or spies will matter without political support. The nobles control the lands and thus the movement of goods. Supplies and fortifications are vital in any war.”

Leliana nodded, “And getting the nobles on our side means favors, information, and ultimately, deals that we do not like. Bann Hessal is just a taste of what Denerim holds. Diplomacy will be key to winning this war, but it will not be easy.”

Elissa slammed her glass down. “You would think the people of this land would _want_ to save their own skin! I am tired of trying to convince them!”

Leliana placed a hand on her arm. “Do no lose faith, Elissa. I have skills in such matters. The Bann has invited me to dine with him and Teagan this evening. Let me do what I do best. If I cannot turn him to our cause, then we will discuss other options.”

Elissa nodded in agreement. Teagan bowed slightly and excused himself. He offered his arm and escorted Leliana out of the room.

Zevran poured himself a glass of wine. “Ahhh…plots that involve beautiful women. Ferelden is not so very different from Antiva after all.” He drank his wine in one large gulp, grimacing as he swallowed it. “Except for the wine, of course.”

Alistair grumbled. “As much as you dislike it, the wine is never far from your lips.”

He laughed. “And neither are plotting women! Both numb the ache of homesickness and improve my disposition as I deal with…difficult people.”

Alistair narrowed his eyes at him and didn’t respond.

Zevran turned from him and stepped towards Elissa. “Fear not, fair warden. Those who will not ally with us will be our enemies. If that happens, our response will be simple. You and I are both masters at dealing with enemies, are we not?”

Elissa smiled in return. “That we are, my friend.”

Alistair moved between them, with no attempt at subtlety. “Don’t you have someplace you need to be right now, Zevran?”

Zevran’s eyes sparkled in mischief. “Indeed. Roland awaits my blades in the practice yard.” He looked pointedly at Elissa, noting her clenched jaw. “He has almost completely recovered from his wounds, fair warden. I would not risk his life on mere display. Perhaps you could join us later.”

Elissa crossed her arms. “What is the point? I have practiced with him for years and still haven’t cured him of his own stupidity.”

Zevran smiled. “Sadly, there is no cure for that particular problem. But I will attend to his mortal flesh and do my best to see him back to fighting strength.”

Elissa sniffed. “Be sure to draw blood if you get the chance, Zevran. For me.”

Zevran laughed and turned to leave. “I will do what I can.”

Alistair turned to her, his smile back in place. “So…I take it you are still angry with Roland?”

Elissa grimaced. She knew her anger was unfair, but it was difficult to let it go. Roland’s recovery had not been easy, and the memory haunted her.

*****

It all began a few nights after their arrival at Redcliffe. The mages were successful at ridding Connor of the demon that plagued him, and the whole castle breathed a sigh of relief to know the worst had passed. Drink flowed heavy in the village and everyone found peace at last after weeks of terror. Wynne informed Elissa of her intent to join their cause and act as a healer and counselor for their group. Elissa accepted without question, her gratitude for Wynne’s help after Kinloch still fresh in her mind. With everyone situated and the world finally returned to normal, Elissa looked forward to good night’s rest.

The dream began as they often did. She was standing in the fields above Highever. Her fingertips brushed the grass as she walked, and she closed her eyes, letting the wind dance over skin.

_Home. I am home._

When she opened them again, she caught a glimpse of someone walking in the distance. His long gate and red hair were unmistakable. She called out to him, but he did not seem to hear her. She ran towards him, calling to him again. She was out of breath by the time she reached him.

“Roland? Did you not hear me calling you?”

He turned to her, his face solemn.

A feeling of dread passed through her, though he seemed unharmed. He held his hand out to her. A flame burned in his palm, just as it had the day he became a knight.

She looked down at it, mesmerized by the small flame. As they both stared at it, it seemed to grow in strength, the yellow flame turning blue at the center. She looked back into Roland’s eyes, and was shocked to see that he was crying.

His voice was full of sadness. “It burns.”

She reached out to grab his hand with hers, hoping to extinguish the flame. Before she could touch him, the flame engulfed his entire hand. She stepped back in alarm, and saw that the flame was moving quickly up his arm.

She started to panic. “Roland! We must find water!”

He shook his head, looking at his burning arm with resignation. His tears turned to molten drops, burning his face and leaving blackened trails as they ran down his cheeks. His spoke again, his voice as dry as a desert. “There is only fire.”

The sky suddenly opened up, clouds parting to reveal a monstrous orange sun. Elissa shielded her eyes against the glare. Flames flew from the sky and ignited the grass around them. The dry field burst into flames immediately, and thick smoke billowed from the fire.

The smoke was choking Elissa, and she coughed, trying to find some way to escape the blazing field.

She felt his hand grab her arm, and the feeling of dread filled her once again. She didn’t want to look up, knowing something terrible would meet her eyes.

He spoke, his voice pleading. “It burns, Elissa.”

She looked up at him. Roland’s skin was completely blackened by the fire, and the flames danced around his forehead like a burning crown. All that remained of the face she knew so well were his two blue eyes.

She screamed, waking to find herself tangled in the bed sheets and drenched in sweat.

She jumped from the bed and grabbed a robe, quickly tying it around her as she ran to his room, terrified of what she would find. She burst into his room, convinced she would find him covered in flames.

Roland lay sleeping, the moonlight from the window near his bed outlining his face in soft blue. She stood over him for several minutes, assuring herself that he was truly unharmed. Once her heartbeat slowed to normal, she felt childish for rushing to check on him because of a bad dream. She turned to leave, but stopped when she heard his voice.

_My name. He said my name._

He was calling out to her in his sleep. The hairs on her arms stood up at the sound of his voice.

She turned back to him and reached out to smooth the hair from his forehead. As soon as her fingers made contact, she pulled back in alarm.

His skin was on fire.

She tried to wake him, but his only response was to thrash in his fevered sleep. She slapped him, desperate to wake him. He moaned, but did not open his eyes. He continued to call out to her in his sleep.  He sounded afraid and alone.  It terrified her.

She rushed to find Wynne, who was as surprised as Elissa to find his condition so drastically altered in such a short time. The slight fever from the previous day had taken hold of him with an unexpected vengeance in the night. Wynne and Elissa worked together to drop his temperature by covering with him with ice and drenching his hair repeatedly in cold water.

The grave look on the old mage’s face as they tended him said it all. The nightmare that robbed Elissa of sleep likely saved Roland’s life.

The nights of his fever were long ones. Elissa slept restlessly on a small couch in his room. Each night was the same. She dreamed that the two of them were together in the fields above Highever. And in every one, he would burn before her eyes, and she would wake to find his fever had not lessened. She was losing hope.

_Powerless. This is what it means to be helpless. To watch your friend die. To watch him suffer._

Despite their efforts, it was several days before he regained consciousness. She woke to find Wynne standing over her. The old mage was smiling. Elissa jumped from her couch and rushed to Roland’s side. He was covered in sweat.

She reached out and touched his forehead, smoothing his hair back from his damp brow.

She looked at Wynne. “His fever broke?”

The mage nodded. “While you slept. I believe the worst is over.”

Elissa felt relief for the first time in many nights. Still, she shook her head.

_I want to believe that. But I have a feeling the worst has just begun._

*****

Elissa shivered at the memory. “Two weeks! Two weeks of fever and nausea and Wynne nursing him…and me pacing the hallways like a damned worried mother. And now that he is finally able to walk around, he immediately starts training again! Against my orders!” She looked at Alistair. “Did you speak with him about templar training yet?”

Alistair shrugged. “I did. He didn’t seem to think it was a priority.”

Elissa growled. “Not a priority? He was nearly ripped in half by a spell that you could have blocked in your sleep!” She ran her hands through her hair. “I hope his wounds open back up…it will serve him right for being a stubborn ass. If I wasn’t so tired, I would go to the yard and do it myself.”

Alistair looked at her with concern. He stepped closer to her, reaching up and swiping his thumb gently under her eye. “You do look exhausted. You should lie down.”

She shrugged. “It’s nothing. Just…bad dreams.”

He nodded solemnly. “The darkspawn horde…as it draws closer, the dreams will likely get stronger. I believe they are nearing their goal of waking the archdemon.”

She shrugged. “You may be right. Yet…I do not think it is the taint that is causing my sleepless nights.”

He looked at her questioningly. “You said you spoke with the First Enchanter about helping you find peaceful sleep. Did he not help?”

Elissa bit her bottom lip. She did not want to talk about the dreams with Alistair, and mentally kicked herself for bringing it up. Only Wynne knew of the dream that alerted her to Roland’s condition. But only Irving knew that those dreams had remained despite Roland’s recovery.

*****

“These dreams began after your experience in the Fade?”

Elissa nodded, sipping the honeyed water that Irving offered her. He sat across from her in a large, comfortable chair. His rooms were as large as her own, which was surprising given the low station of mages. Elissa suspected his lodgings had less to do with his standing as the First Enchanter and more to do with the fact that he saved the life of Isolde’s treasured son.

Elissa swallowed the sweet concoction. “Do you think the demon has…found some way to influence me?”

Irving raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Are you asking me if you are possessed, Lady Cousland?”

She shrugged helplessly and he laughed. He looked abashed when she arched an angry eyebrow at him. “Forgive me, Lady Cousland. It is just…only mages can be possessed by demons. I assumed an educated woman such as you would know that.”

Elissa squirmed in her chair, reminded of Master Aldous and his harsh lessons in humility. “Of course I know that! But you know of my condition. I thought perhaps…”

He waved his hand in dismissal. “That is irrelevant. You are no mage, and thus cannot be possessed by a demon.” He laughed again when he saw the relieved look pass over her features. “In any case, you do not have a _condition_ , Lady Cousland. You are what you are…nothing more, nothing less.”

Elissa smiled. “”So you have told me. I still find the notion hard to accept, given that I have no memory when the darkness…when that part of my mind comes forth. It feels…alien. How can it be a part of me when I am so disconnected from it? When I cannot remember what I do in that state?”

Irving shrugged. “Does memory alone make us what we are?”

Elissa raised an eyebrow. “A deep question. Is this to be another of our philosophical discussions?”

Irving smiled in return. “I do enjoy our debates. It makes me feel young again.”

Elissa looked at him shrewdly. “Is that why you linger here?”

Irving steepled his fingers. “Is this your way of asking me why I chose to remain here instead of joining my fellow mages at Kinloch?”

“I suppose it is.  You are hiding something.”

“What makes you suspect me?”

Elissa leaned forward, staring him hard in the eye. “You visited Roland’s bedside and asked him of the Fade. I told you everything when you arrived at Redcliffe, yet you pester my wounded knight for verification. You obviously mistrust me and remain to watch me. I do not like it.”

“You have it all wrong!” Irving leaned forward. “Do you not understand how rare it is for non-mages to walk in the Fade as you did? Conscious that you were in a dream! I would question everyone I could about such a thing. I am a scholar, after all.”

“And my condition…I mean…what I am…this has nothing to do with your interest?”

Irving sighed. “You are too perceptive for your own good.”

“If you know something about it, I would have you tell me.”

Irving stood. He poured himself another glass of honeyed water. “Lady Cousland…do you remember when I first visited you? At Highever?”

“I told you before that I did not.”

“Yes. But it is always good to double check the facts.” He sat again in his chair. He smiled at her, his eyes softening.

“When I first met you, I was a mere senior enchanter at the Circle. Your father came to Kinloch and told his tale to the First Enchanter, asking for our aid. She sent me to investigate the matter because of my particular talents.”

“What talents were those?”

He smiled again. “I had a gift for teaching unruly mage children. It came from my own experiences. Being a difficult child myself, I had a knack for getting children to confide in me. I also studied rare phenomena, and was more…well-traveled…than most Circle mages. I was the ideal candidate.”

He leaned back, and Elissa prepared herself for a tale. “You stood before me, your little hands on your hips, eyeing me suspiciously with those dark eyes...much as you do now. I told you my name and asked for yours. You told me, and asked me why I wore such strange robes. Apparently, you had never seen a grown man without armor on in your presence.”

Elissa smiled, despite herself. “It is the curse of growing up in the North. Even Master Aldous wore boots and greaves, though he rarely left his classroom.”

Irving nodded. “Yes. It was my first visit to the North. The people of that region have eyes that see far, and hands never far from their swords. I felt out of place. Though…well…mages often feel that way.” He mused for a moment, then continued his tale. “I told you that I was a mage and you asked me to perform magic for you. No…that is not quite right. You demanded that I _prove_ it to you. I did a simple spell, freezing one of the flowers in the garden where we sat. You plucked the flower, and it shattered in your hand.”

Irving shook his head. “I will never forget the look on your face. You demanded that I fix it. I told you I could not. You asked why magic couldn’t fix it. I explained that magic cannot restore that which is utterly broken. Your bottom lip quivered and your little brow crinkled in dismay. I asked you what troubled you. You stifled tears, and spoke with a voice far older than that of a mere child. I have never forgotten it.”

Elissa raised her eyebrows. “What did I say?”

“You said ‘I do bad things sometimes, and I cannot stop. I must be utterly broken, too’.”

Elissa waited for the mage to continue, but he leaned back. Apparently, the story was finished.

Elissa shook her head. “You know Irving, you are full of shit.”

The old mage smiled. “So I have been told.”

She stood, suddenly angry. “What is the point of telling me that? To remind me that am dangerous? That it hurt my family? It does not answer my question nor does it explain these dreams.”

“Of course if does.”

“Do not speak to me in riddles! Either answer plain or still your tongue. Why are you really here? And what do these dreams mean?”

Irving sighed. “Very well.” He stood, looking at her thoughtfully. “I am here for one simple reason…to remind you of what you should already know.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You knew as a small child that there was a part of you that was capable of doing immense harm. And you were unhappy, just as you are now. You asked me if I could make it stop, just as you asked me to stop these dreams that torment you. And I will tell you the same thing now that I told you then.”

He stepped towards her, placing his tough old hands on her shoulders. “You cannot be fixed because you are not broken. It is part of who you are.”

Elissa pulled back, her eyes widening. “You…you told my mother that, didn’t you? That’s why…she always said…”

Irving nodded. “Yes. Your mother had a great capacity for understanding. She accepted what I told her without question because she could see the truth of it....and because she loved you a great deal. These things that trouble you…the dreams…the darkness…you _must_ understand. They are part of you. Nothing more, nothing less. And the only way to move forward is to accept that simple truth.”

Elissa shook her head. “But these dreams…they are new! Something has changed! I can feel it.”

Irving shrugged, unconcerned. “Just as a new day brings new experiences, so we all change. Just because something is new does not mean it does not belong. And just because you become aware of something, it does not mean that it has not been there for much longer.”

Elissa took a deep breath. “Are you saying that…these dreams…that I am just…becoming aware of them?”

“What are dreams? Remember your lessons, Lady Cousland.”

“Dreams are...dreams happen when our spirits walk the Fade. When the waking mind is at rest, we...drift beyond the Veil.”

“Yes! And what is the Fade?”

“It is the home of spirits and demons, the realm that connects all living things.”

“Precisely. And you have always dreamed. You have always drifted. Only now, your dreams are focused. They are sharper, clearer. That could simply be a matter of your recent experience. Your unconscious mind can navigate the Fade more clearly because you have experienced it first-hand. That is what has changed. That may be why your dreams are more vivid.”

“But…Roland. Why do I dream of him so often now?” She stepped towards him, dropping her voice. “Please. I am terrified, Irving. He was burning in the Fade, and then I found him fevered. And each night, I dreamt that he burned and woke to find that it was so. Then…I…dreamt that we were running from a great wave. And we barely escaped. But I woke to find that his fever broke while I slept. And I knew it…even before I woke up…I knew that he had escaped. I thought the dreams would stop then, but they did not.”

“Tell me about the other dreams.”

Elissa shifted, clearly uncomfortable. “Sometimes we fight. Darkspawn, demons, it doesn’t matter. And he saves me or I save him. But more often than not, we just…"

“Yes?”

Elissa sighed. “Mostly, we just…talk. We sit on the hill above Highever and just…talk. Like we did when we were young. I can't always remember what we speak of.” She looked him, her eyes pleading. “Tell me what it means! I cannot bear it if he…if it means that he will…” She stopped, unable to finish.

Irving touched her shoulder again, gently.  “The Fade connects us all. There is nothing mysterious in dreaming about another person. Especially someone that you care for." He sighed. "Have you spoken to the knight about this? It may help.”

Elissa shook her head. “I…I find it difficult to speak with him at the moment.”

Irving smiled. “Yes. I had forgotten that part.”

Elissa looked at him, a question in her eyes, and he laughed.

“When you were young, I saw it. And it has not changed. Your stubbornness has always been there, Lady Cousland. It is also a part of who you are.”

*****

Elissa sighed, remembering her meeting with Irving and the complete waste of time that it turned out to be. She realized that Alistair was waiting for her to answer him, his amber eyes staring at her with genuine concern.

_How do I handle this?_

She considered just telling him the truth. After all, he accepted so much about her without question already. When she finally told him the whole story about what happened at Highever, he accepted her determination to get revenge against Howe without question. He witnessed both what happened to her when the darkness took her as well as what happened to others that crossed her path when she was in that mad state. To both, he had offered sympathy and understanding instead of running away from her.

But despite all of this, there was still an invisible boundary that existed between them.

Alistair freely admitted to being jealous over Zevran. He scowled at the assassin constantly and always had a sharp comment to make about him when Elissa brought him up. He wore his emotions on his sleeve, in many ways, and it was always easy to see what he was thinking. But he was strangely silent when it came to Roland. Alistair never questioned her concern for Roland.  He did not comment on her sleeping in his room when he was sick nor question her anger at him now that he was recovered. In fact, he barely mentioned Roland at all unless she brought him up.

Elissa was fairly certain that the less Alistair said about a subject, the more it occupied his thoughts. Since they were both new at relationships, she decided that the best tactic would be to steer clear of trying to explain that she was having nightly dreams about another man.

She attempted an innocent smile. He rolled his eyes, not fooled. She sighed. “In all honesty…Irving was completely useless. He just told me that sleep would come eventually if I learned to accept the dreams and stop worrying about them.”

He nodded. “You have never told me any details. Maybe it would help to talk about them.”

She looked up into Alistair’s concerned eyes. She was constantly amazed by his feelings for her. A part of her was just waiting for him to run away screaming.

_Best not to give him more cause than he already has._

She shook her head. “I don’t want to relive such horrors in the light of day.” She growled. “It’s just that my lack of sleep coupled with worrying over that stupid man is destroying my peace of mind!”

Alistair tilted his head thoughtfully. “You should just talk to Roland. You know…get it all out in the open. Maybe then it wouldn’t weigh so heavily on you if you told him why you were so upset.”

She shook her head. _Irving and Alistair, giving me the same advice?_ “Bad idea. It would just make it worse. He won’t listen to me and I will be forced to hurt him.”

Alistair smiled gently. He pulled her to him, kissing her softly on the lips. “Well then…we just need to give you something else to occupy your thoughts.”

She smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Now _that_ is a good idea.”

<<>> 

The black bird watched the old mage. He had a habit of muttering to himself when he was alone, which the bird found amusing. He was currently pacing back and forth through his room, his long robe sweeping the floor as he walked, creating a path in the dust. Her perch in his window gave her a good view of his solitary pacing.

“You might as well come out and say hello.”

The black bird turned her head, digging into her left wing with her sharp beak.

The old mage sighed and looked up at her. His eyes sparkled beneath his bushy brows. “I know you’ve been watching me, mage. If you wish to talk, my templar guard will not hear us. I spelled the door.”

The bird looked at him closely, her thoughts bent on flying away. After a moment’s hesitation, she flew into the room.

Morrigan answered him. “You are playing with fire, old man. The templar will surely slap you on the wrist for such misconduct.”

Irving smiled. “And I would deserve it. It will be a sad day when a young pup who is half my age outwits me.”

Morrigan sniffed. “I am half your age, and I assure you my wits are as sharp as my beak.”

Irving poured two glasses of honey water from a ceramic basin. “Or your teeth, depending on which of your forms you refer to. May I have your name?”

“You may call me Morrigan.”

He bowed slightly. “And you are welcome to call me Irving. _Old man_ makes me feel…well, rather old.” He offered one of the glasses to her. “And so Morrigan…why did you come to meet me?”

Morrigan declined the drink. “I want to know why you are here. Your fellow mages left days ago. Surely the Knight Commander will not appreciate your long absence.”

“I am nursing the Arl to the best of my abilities. I cannot abandon him now, not when so much depends on his recovery.”

Morrigan sniffed. “I told you before my wits are sharp, old man. Your magic is battle magic. I can tell by how your mana swirls about you. Healing is not your strength, though I daresay your skills are adequate enough to keep the Arl’s condition from _worsening_.”

Irving’s eyes sparkled. “I appreciate your confidence in my abilities.”

Morrigan crossed her arms. “You stay to spy on my friend.”

His bushy eyebrows rose at that. “Friend, is she?”

Morrigan felt her cheeks heat up. “What of it?”

“I just assumed that you follow her to achieve some goal for yourself. I am genuinely surprised you consider her a friend.”

“My personal feelings for the warden are irrelevant. Knowing why you spy on her is the more important matter.”

“Friendship is more important than you think, Morrigan.” He sat down. “You will forgive me if I sit? My old bones are weak.”

Morrigan did not answer.

Irving sighed. “Very well. I have been considering that it might be a good thing for someone in her group to know something of her condition. Wynne would be an obvious choice. And yet…she has her own troubles now, and I would not burden her further.”

“What troubles are those?”

“It is not important. Wynne is a capable mage and she will deal with it. As for your _friend_ , I am mostly ignorant when it comes to her, despite my efforts at… _spying_.”

Morrigan couldn’t help but smile. “That is not surprising. I overheard your questions to her knight regarding what happened in the Fade. Apparently, he has little tolerance for those who pry into her business.”

Irving laughed. “Yes. It has been many years since someone told me to stick my head up my own ass if I wanted answers. It was rather refreshing to be put in my place like that. He is a northerner through and through.”

Morrigan shrugged. “His temper is nothing compared to hers. You obviously know this, considering you did not attempt to question her deeply when she told you the tale.”

He considered. “There is little she could tell me that would not be tainted by her own perspective. I desired to know his version of events since he was an unwilling participant in her…episode.”

Morrigan cocked and eyebrow at that. “The knight jumped in after her. I would not call that unwilling.”

“He jumped? Ahh…that makes more sense.”

Irving sat musing for a time, until Morrigan cleared her throat for him to continue.

“Forgive me, Morrigan. I tend to get distracted by such things. It is rare to find such strong emotion in the Circle. Mages are, by necessity, reserved in their feelings. It is the tragedy of our kind. And yet…” he sat his water on the table next to him, “…it is the most beautiful of all of life’s mysteries. The ability to give and receive love, to share a piece of one’s essence with another being. It is the most basic of all magic, and yet the part we tend to ignore in our never-ending quest to understand what all of this means.”

He smiled and steepled his fingers, resting his chin on his fingertips. “And so, Morrigan…since you name her friend, perhaps I can trust you with what I have learned. But first…tell me what you already know.”

<<>> 

Zevran was oddly satisfied by the thump of Roland’s ass on the hard dirt of the training yard.

They had remained almost three weeks at Redcliffe, using the hiatus to gather pledges from the surrounding noble houses to aid in the Blight while giving Roland enough time to recover from his injuries. Between the severity of his wounds and the subsequent fever that gripped him after their arrival at Redcliffe, Roland had been confined to his room for most of their stay. The knight was in a permanently foul mood, and more than one of the companions had commented on it. Only Zevran seemed to realize that Roland’s sullen disposition was due to far more personal matters than being cramped in a sickroom.

The gossip regarding the blossoming romance between the two wardens was spreading throughout the group, despite their flimsy attempts to keep their relationship private. It was apparent to anyone paying the smallest bit of attention; the looks they shared, the startled movements and guilty looks when they were come upon unexpectedly, the long periods each evening when neither warden could be found…one did not need to be a trained assassin to read such blatant signs of affection. And everyone had an opinion on the matter. Leliana sighed dreamily when she saw the wardens walking together, convinced it was true love. Wynne commented on the long hours they spent together, although she did little more than purse her lips and nod disapprovingly when Zevran enlightened her on the matter. Zevran personally enjoyed baiting Alistair as often as possible, aware the jealously was the surest way to make him come clean about his affections. Even Morrigan made the occasional remark, though more often than not it was to ridicule the chaste templar.

Zevran had no doubt that Roland was aware of the lady’s choice. Unlike the others, however, he refused to comment on the subject.

_As they say in Antiva, the unspoken word is the only word that matters._

Zevran decided that the only way to pull the knight from his dark thoughts was to return him to fighting form. He was convinced that the potential damage to Roland’s body was irrelevant if his private wounds were left to fester in seclusion.

He offered his hand to the fallen knight.

“You have had almost a fortnight to recover from your wounds, my friend. Either your skills have been permanently damaged by whatever that mage did to you, or your mind is not on the task at hand.”

Roland grunted, letting Zevran pull him from the dirty ground. “It was a cheap shot.”

“What do you expect? I am an unemployed assassin! One must pay good coin for the privilege of my best work.”

Roland moved back into position. “Why not take out a few contracts on the side? I am sure Elissa wouldn’t mind.”

“You think not? As I recall, you were supposed to train exclusively with Alistair. Are you trying to tempt me to officially rebel with you? Or are you simply trying to arouse her wrath by any means necessary?”

Roland dropped his shield subtly and swung his sword. Zevran dodged deftly, laughing.

“I am surprised that a knight of your skill and fortitude has not landed a single critical hit this entire bout. Perhaps a drink would help you reclaim your sword hand.”

Roland charged with his shield, but Zevran was ready for the attack, dropping low to take the knight’s exposed knees. Roland fell to the ground. He growled, rolling on his back and throwing his shield aside in frustration.

Zevran sat in the dirt beside him. “Come, my friend. The tavern has some excellent ale. And a fine woman serves it. Bella, I believe. A bit skinny for my taste, but she has captivating eyes. If you don’t act quickly, Leliana may steal her away from you.”

Roland remained on his back, breathing heavily. “I don’t need a fine ale or a fine woman.” The knight rubbed his temples. “I need proper sleep.”

“You have been abed for weeks now. Surely you have rested enough?”

Roland shook his head. “These nightmares…I’ve never had dreams like this before.” He sat up, looking around the Redcliffe training yard. “I think it has something to do with this place.”

Zevran looked at Roland closely. He noticed the black circles under his eyes, the gaunt cheeks and pallid complexion. He was no longer feverish or in pain, but he was obviously exhausted. “You may be right. The blood is still fresh in this land.” He stood, offering Roland his hand again. “Ale and women are the perfect remedies for sleepless nights, in my experience. After that…well…perhaps it will be good for us all to leave this place.”

Roland stood with Zevran’s help. “The sooner the better. The Blight will not wait for us.”

Zevran nodded solemnly. “The refugees from Lothering would agree with you. I have never had the pleasure of visiting that particular village. I gather from the poor folk that have been arriving daily that a visit to Lothering is no longer possible.”

Roland nodded. “Darkspawn sow their corruption into the earth itself. The land will be barren for generations. If we fail, all of Thedas will suffer the same fate as Lothering. It seems that it is up to us to stop it.”

“It is a tall order…saving Ferelden from darkspawn. It is a good thing you are a tall man.”

Roland started to smile, but stopped, his eyes squinting as they caught something at the edge of the yard. Zevran followed the knight’s brooding glare and saw Elissa standing in the distance, speaking to one of the Lothering refugees. He saw the refugee shake his head sadly. Elissa nodded in return, her lips pressed together in a hard line of disappointment. She looked around the yard and her eyes settled on Roland. Zevran watched as her face turned to stone, and he readied himself for the fight that was about to happen.

She stalked towards them. Zevran let out a long breath.

Elissa crossed her arms. “What are you doing?”

Roland crossed his own arms in return. “Practicing.”

“And why are you not training with Alistair?”

“Your fellow warden has been rather…distracted of late. I did not want to interfere with his busy schedule.”

Zevran tried to his own smirk. He knew it was best to stay out of their discussion, as the tempers of both could just as easily turn on him. According to Alistair, the doggedness of northerners was well known throughout Ferelden. Apparently, their folklore was filled with stories of shining knights from the Coastlands who fell victim to their own stubbornness. The phrase “as hopeless as changing a northerner’s mind” was an expression he was finally beginning to understand.

Zevran rather enjoyed watching the two Highever knights argue. It was like watching legends come to life.

Elissa’s cheeks flushed. “Do you have something you wish to say to me, Roland? I would not have you keep your thoughts to yourself.”

Roland raised his eyebrows, feigning innocence. “While my life and death are yours, my lady, I believe my thoughts are my own.”

Elissa narrowed her eyes, “It is for the best, then. The thoughts of a knight are unfathomable to most.”

The sarcasm was clear in Roland’s reply. “That is true, my lady. I will spare you the particulars and keep my own counsel…if it pleases you, of course.”

Elissa exhaled sharply through her nose. “Perhaps you can find better conversation in a dark hole somewhere, since you seem so determined to throw yourself into one. There is a well in the courtyard that might suit your needs. I suggest you use it.”

Roland bowed. “I will attend to it directly, my lady.”

She stormed away from him. Zevran let out the breath he was holding and clapped Roland on the back. “She is a difficult woman, my young friend. And your snide comments only serve to fuel her anger.”

Roland huffed. “I’m used to it. She is more often angry with me than not. And I haven’t done anything to merit this current bout of ill temper.”

“Oh...I don’t know. She does make a valid point.”

Roland ignored him, staring at Elissa’s retreating figure with a mixture of anger and longing.

Zevran sighed. “I heard the story of your adventures in the Fade. I must confess, I am still confused by it all. How exactly did you think that jumping into that chasm would save her?”

Instead of answering, Roland reached down and picked up his shield, crouching into position. He signaled for Zevran to take his place. Zevran shook his head. “I am off on an errand for a beautiful woman. Our bout will have to wait until later.” He sheathed his blades. “Think on my question, Roland. Perhaps later, you will have an answer.”

Roland stood straight, a sheepish look passing over his normally stoic features. “Maybe. It will require ale, you know. A lot of ale.”

Zevran laughed. “I will see what I can do.”

<<>> 

Elissa walked through the garden, trying to shake off her agitation.

_Idiot. Reckless, foolish, idiot!_

She sighed, rubbing her temples. In truth, her anger at Roland had mostly subsided over the past few weeks. Yelling at him when she saw him in the practice yard had been more of a knee-jerk reaction than a real attempt to make him understand her position. And trying to convince Roland that she was right was as pointless as trying to sway a mule to fly.

Lashing out at him had less to do with any true resentment and more to do with her general malaise. The Lothering refugees were arriving steadily. They came in small groups, carrying their ragged belongings, their eyes empty from despair, their stories filled with the horrors they witnessed. The Templars coordinated the evacuation as they promised, but many did not make it out in time. Some villagers attempted to sail to the Free Marches, to escape Ferelden before the Blight destroyed everything. Others turned north, determined to remain in their homeland and fight.

Elissa made an effort to meet with all the refugees personally. She did her best to give them hope…but they often received her words with nothing more than blank stares. She couldn’t blame them. She had a difficult enough time trying to convince herself that there was a real chance to defeat the Blight. Without Eamon to rally his people, Elissa’s efforts to mobilize the settlements around Lake Calanhad were feeble at best. She could only hope that they would honor their obligations to the Grey Wardens when the time came.

She shook her head, trying to ignore the empty feeling that kept settling in her stomach at the thought of those left behind in Lothering. Instead, she focused on how she should apologize to Roland. The easiest route would be to just tell him what was bothering her, as both Alistair and Irving had suggested. He would understand…and knew her well enough to listen and then leave her alone about it.

Then again, her attempts at apologies always ended badly. Perhaps it would be better to just let sleeping mules lie.

She was so lost in her own thoughts that she almost yelped out loud when she felt hands pull her into the shade of one of the tall oaks that lined the garden path. When she felt his breath tickle her neck, she let out a loud sigh.

“Do you understand how dangerous it is to sneak up on a woman with knives in her boot?”

She felt his chest rumble against her back. His arms wrapped around her and he pulled her closer, speaking against her neck. “I am well aware of the risks. But then I figured the reward was well worth it.”

She smiled in spite of herself. She was growing more and more accustomed to Alistair touching her. At first, they were both so nervous with one another that she worried the relationship might be doomed. Elissa was as skittish as a colt and ready to flee at the first provocation, her own feelings too unstable to be relied upon to anchor their relationship. She worried in the beginning that Alistair would need more encouragement than she was willing to offer.

Despite her misgivings, Alistair approached their newly professed feelings for one another with a simple determination. He made a point of touching her as often as possible, even if it was nothing more than grazing his hand against hers at dinner. Of course, that often meant remarks from their companions, but both of them were growing a thick skin in that regard.

They walked together most evenings after dinner, shyly holding hands and talking, each subject a way to figure out where they differed and where they overlapped. Elissa found that Alistair was more observant than he let on…despite his tendency for self-deprecation. He tended to examine situations broadly, and preferred summary to in-depth analysis, which balanced Elissa’s propensity to get bogged down in details. They also gossiped shamelessly about their companions, and it was a favorite topic when they began to feel awkward with one another.

While his conversation was pleasurable, and enough by itself to merit her enjoyment of their evenings together, Elissa could not deny her growing physical attraction to him. She looked forward to each walk with growing anticipation.

There was a ritual of sorts that belonged entirely to them. Once they were far enough from prying eyes, he would inevitably turn towards her and touch her face. That was his signal, his touch asking the question. In turn, she would place her hand on his chest, giving him her unspoken answer. Then came the kiss, the connection that signaled the beginning of their evening explorations…a smiling face that leaned down to hers, a soft graze of their lips, and a subtle sound of pleasure.

After these initial salutations, things were more spontaneous, and the anticipation of what would happen next kept Elissa’s heartbeat dangerously close to fluttering.

Each evening held something new. During one of their first walks together, Alistair timidly leaned down and kissed her neck, his stubble tickling her until she giggled in spite of herself. When he pulled back from her with an unsure expression on his face, she immediately regretted her laugh and pulled him back by the scruff of his shirt, ordering him to continue. They both laughed, and kissing her neck was added to their repertoire.

She learned where Alistair was ticklish, and could make him squirm uncontrollably when she let her breath touch the skin just below his earlobe. When she kissed his neck, he would get so distracted that his whole body would stiffen, and something like a purr would come from his chest. She could also make his eyes roll back in his head by running her nails down his forearms.

Likewise, he discovered that kissing the back of her neck, just above her spine, made her whole body melt. And he took endless pleasure in softly kissing the inside of her wrists, which caused her to shiver uncontrollably.

One evening, his hands drifted to her waist and he suddenly pulled her flush against him. Her own response was just as unexpected. A most unladylike growl emanated from her throat and she found her hand giving his hind-end a firm squeeze. The blush that spread over both their faces when they pulled apart, and the nervous throat clearing that followed, worried Elissa all the next day. And yet, their next evening walk found her pressed against a tree, his hands roaming over her hips and up her stomach. They stopped just short of her breasts, but his kisses on her neck and the growling sound at the back of his throat suggested that his hands would likely work their way up to the desired position in the near future.      

The combination of nervous energy and a lack of experience made each new touch something to marvel over, both in the moment and for hours after. She loved that he was growing bolder each day, his confidence only adding to his natural charm. He would sometimes get so caught up in their kisses that he didn’t seem to notice the parts of his body that were pressed against her. Although he clearly desired her, however, his confidence only went so far. If her hands wandered too close to his belt, he would pull away, making some sort of joke or awkward comment.

She wasn’t frustrated by his reserve…in fact, it made him all the more adorable. And her ability to make him lose control, even if only for a moment, made her downright giddy and eager to press the advantage.

His arms were still wrapped around her, and she playfully answered him, “Oh? And what reward do you think you will get for detaining me from my destination?”

Alistair placed a gentle kiss on her neck and she felt the goosebumps travel up her arms. “Well…I assumed that a moment of privacy would help to get rid of that scowl you were wearing. Improving your mood is reward enough.”

She turned in his arms, peering up at his amber eyes and smiling. “Well, you have your prize then, Warden. My mood is vastly improved.”

He smiled in return. “Excellent. And now…I wonder if I could offer my services to you, madam? I would very much like to help you keep that smile for rest of the day.”

She stood on her tiptoes, letting her lips almost touch his as she whispered conspiratorially. “And just what services are you offering?”

He rubbed his nose against hers. “Always with the details! I’ll let you decide.”

She arched her eyebrow playfully. “Are you letting me dictate the terms of your service? I thought I warned you already, Warden. If you give me too much power, I _will_ take advantage of you.”

He smiled. “And I am, oddly enough, perfectly happy to give you that power.” He leaned down and kissed her.

She playfully bit his bottom lip. “Trusting fool! Have I taught you nothing?”

He nipped her lip in return. “A few things. I am a very hungry pupil, Lady Cousland. I am putting myself at the mercy of your instruction.”

She laughed out loud. “Very well. I order to you to spend the next five to ten minutes with me under the shade of this tree. I demand several long and passionate kisses, at least two bouts of neck nuzzling…oh, and perhaps one or two ear nibbles.”

“Spoken like a true leader. I accept those terms.”

After proving his ability to follow instructions, Alistair sat with his back against the trunk of the oak tree. Elissa leaned back against him, resting comfortably between his legs, her head against his chest and her arms resting on his knees. She had almost forgotten both the scowl on her face as well as what put the scowl there in the first place. Being with Alistair made all of that disappear.

Obviously, he had not forgotten. He cleared his throat. “So…are you ready to tell me what was bothering you?”

She sighed. “It’s silly, really.”

“Good. Then there should be no problem with you telling me.”

She smiled. After moment, she attempted an answer. “I just…the refugees…seeing them all…”

“They are pitiful lot, aren’t they?”

She nodded. “Yes. But…I just…do you remember that little boy? The one on the bridge?”

His arms tightened ever so slightly around her. “Sure, I remember him.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “I know it sounds foolish but…I just keep waiting to see if he made it. I keep asking the refugees about him, but no one remembers him.”

His voice was soft against the top of her head. “Why does he mean so much to do you?”

She shrugged. “No reason. I mean…I don’t know.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Your nephew…Oren…was he about the same age?”

She stiffened and did not answer. He continued. “You woke from a dream once, crying out in the darkness. You said you couldn’t hold him. It seemed like someone or something was ripping him from your arms.”

She swallowed hard, but didn’t answer.

“Maybe…maybe you are still trying to hold onto him. And you feel like if that little boy from Lothering makes it out, then you didn’t lose Oren. If he is alive, it means…that you are still _holding_ him.”

She looked at her fingers, trying to focus on them instead of the lump in her throat.

He kissed her hair, holding her tighter. “It is not something you should be ashamed of, Elissa.”

She shook her head. “I am not ashamed. I just…I miss him.”

He kissed her hair again. “I know.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Elissa finally turned, resting her ear against his chest to listen to the sound of his heartbeat. She flattened her palm against his chest to keep the connection to it, and peered up at him. “Did you sit with Eamon again today?”

He shrugged. “Yes. There has been no change.”

“You worry about him, don’t you?”

He looked down at her, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. “I am more worried about you.” She gave him an exasperated look and he rolled his eyes. “Oh, alright. Yes, I am worried. If he never wakes up…I won’t ever be able to tell him how sorry I am. For…you know…being an ungrateful little shit.”

Elissa reached up and touched his face. “If I had to apologize for all the stupid things I’ve said and done…well…let’s just say it would take the rest of my life to get through it all.”

He laughed. “I can imagine.”

She slapped his chest. He feigned indignity, and proceeded to tickle her mercilessly, his fingers digging into her ribs. She squirmed to get away from him, but he wrapped his powerful legs around her.

She was panting. “You…will…be sorry if you…don’t…aagghh!!!”

He finally stopped, laughing at her. “There. Punishment received, all bad things forgiven.” He laughed again when she looked up at him with an evil glare.

Her stomach growled, breaking the spell. He laughed again.

“And now, before you have a chance to plot your revenge…let’s go find some food.”

<<>> 

Irving was ruffling through his robes, which only fueled Morrigan’s growing impatience. She spent a full hour giving him as much detail as possible regarding her experience with Elissa’s affliction. Irving had yet to say anything, which now made her feel as though she had betrayed the warden and would get nothing in return.

She made her dismay known by a subtle stamp of her foot. The old mage continued searching his robes, finally pulling a slender pipe and small leather bag of tobacco from them.

“Do you mind if I smoke? I honestly detest the stuff, but one cannot be an old mage without smoking a pipe. It adds an air of sagely wisdom often necessary in exchanges such as ours.”

Morrigan stifled a growl.

Irving sat back in his chair, happily smoking. Finally, before Morrigan had a chance to attack, he started speaking. “How much do you know of the nature of magic?”

Morrigan rolled her eyes. “I have answered enough of your questions, mage. I have studied the nature of magic more extensively than most of your pathetic Circle mages. Leave it at that. It is your turn to talk and mine to listen.”

He smiled, puffing his pipe. “Very well. I can talk at great length, especially when smoking and in the presence of a beautiful woman.”

He tapped the ashes from his pipe, immediately refilling it. “I must tell you some of my past, so that you understand where my knowledge, as limited as it is, comes from.”

He leaned back, relaxing. “When I was very young, and first discovered my magical abilities, I was terrified. My mother was a traveling minstrel, part of rather famous group of professionals that traveled all of Thedas. Story-telling, myths and legends, the greatest tales of our own age and the ages before ours…these were my bread and butter as a lad. I looked forward to a future as an actor, surrounded by such lighthearted and enlightened souls as that lovely troupe contained. But the Maker had a different path for me.

“We were in Antiva, on the outskirts of Antiva City. I was hiding in the forest, trying to learn something of my own powers. I tried to hide my magic, but the whispering of the demons was becoming almost impossible to bear. I remember crying because I did not wish to leave my mother, and yet I knew that if I did not learn to control my magic, I was doomed to end up a prisoner in a Circle.

“A man came upon me in the woods. He was not much older than me…in his early twenties whereas I was but a boy in his early teens. He watched me for a time, and grew impatient at all of my crying and feeling sorry for myself. He emerged from the shadows where he had been hiding, walked right up to me, and slapped me across the face.”

Morrigan nodded. “I can understand the temptation.”

Irving laughed. “His frustration with me had less to do with me personally and more with his own general distaste for weaklings. This man was a Crow, a young and powerful man with the ability to kill his enemies quickly, painlessly, and without mercy.

“Once I recovered from his slap, he asked me how I felt.

“I answered him honestly. ‘Better’, I said. He asked me how I could feel better if I was crying so hard before the slap that I didn’t have a clear understanding of my own feelings. I shrugged and he slapped me again. He asked me how I felt and I shook my head, refusing to answer. He slapped me a third time and asked me how I felt. I said. ‘I don’t know’. He nodded and said that perhaps I understood things after all.”

Morrigan sniffed. “He sounds like a purveyor of nonsense.”

Irving smiled. “I thought the same thing at the time. But he was, quite frankly, a terrifying man…so I was loath to disagree with him. He asked if I wanted to stop being a sniffling child and learn to control my magic. I said yes. He told me to tell my mother goodbye and pack my things. And I did.

“He was my teacher from that day forward. He was no mage, but he understood the difficulties of my kind, having trained young mages to be assassins, like him. He spent his entire life studying human nature, both through observation and by researching history and philosophy, probing the nature of morality with a decisive and unyielding mind. He taught me not only to control my own magic, but also helped me explore the nature of all magic.

“His philosophy was a simple one. Be honest and understand yourself, no matter how painful, and you have the chance to be truly alive. Without understanding, we are merely a reflection of someone else.”

Morrigan tilted her head thoughtfully. “I agree with the sentiment.”

Irving’s eyes sparkled through the haze of smoke. “I thought you might, though it was more than mere sentiment with him. We traveled together for many years, until I became a man myself. Eventually, there were three of us. I studied magic with a voracious appetite, desperate to be more than a mere reflection of other mages. He continued his studies of human nature…complete with the occasional assassination to keep us all fed. The third of our party studied history and cultures…a true anthropologist. You have likely read some of his greatest works, though he published those years later…after he joined the Chantry.”

Morrigan leaned forward. “You mean Brother Genitivi, don’t you?”

Irving nodded. “Back then, he was simply Ferdinand. But even then, he was an insatiable scholar. We traveled everywhere together. With Ferdinand acting as a translator, I was able to learn magic from some of the most dangerous Dalish mages in all of Thedas. The three of us combined our passions into one unified framework…a way to understand the world. And through our studies, we learned many fundamental truths. The most relevant for our conversation is the nature of man and magic.”

Irving stretched his legs, wiping the ashes from his robes. “The human is a creature of dualities. One side of our bodies is a mirror image of the other…to some extent. Our brains have two sides that act in concert, just as our two hands do when we play an instrument. Deeper still, our bodies live at once in the real world and in the Fade.

“Consider this…that the human essence is built from this same dual system. That we have flesh and mana, emotion and intellect, mind and soul.

“Now, understanding that _mind_ and _soul_ are nothing more than words that we are ascribing to these undefinable aspects of the self…consider that these two entities are always working simultaneously. It is the mind that touches reality, while the soul is connected to the Fade. Thus, when the mind sleeps, the soul is free to explore the realms of the Fade. Hence, when non-mages dream…their soul drifts while their mind rests. The opposite is true upon waking.

“Why then do some humans possesses magic? We came to believe that mages have the unique ability to traverse the Fade in conscious form because they have a more transmutable connection between the soul and mind. Not awareness so much as…a mutability. The mind and soul work in concert.”

Irving placed his pipe on the table next to him and leaned forward. “Now, for a more relevant component…consider tranquility. If our understanding is correct, then tranquility, being a means to disrupt a mage’s connection to the Fade, essentially severs the connection between the mind and soul. Because this is not their natural state, tranquil mages no longer feel emotion. Why should this be? We theorized that emotions come from that connection, from that duality. Our emotions are the most natural part of us, because they are a _bridge_ between the contrasting parts of what we are.”

Morrigan heard Flemeth’s’ voice in her head. _She is like a bridge over a deep crevasse._

Irving continued. “Tranquility breaks the natural duality of a mage. It does the same in a non-mage. This nature of duality is always the same, regardless of magical abilities. Tranquility and its effects seem to support this theorem.

“Now, having established the dual nature of the mind and soul in both mages and non-mages…and the fact that emotions such as love and hate are the result of the connection between these two parts…consider this: If tranquility is the forced severing of the mind and soul…is it possible that one could be _born_ with this connection severed? What if the natural state of this special child was that the mind and soul were two separate entities? What if their connection was…naturally obscured?”

Morrigan shook her head. “But wouldn’t they simply be tranquil? Unable to feel emotions?”

Irving smiled. “That was my first thought as well. But my teacher had a more nuanced view. He believed that the dual aspect of human life was more extensive than just our fundamental make-up. He believed that most of what we are is a product of our own experiences within the framework of our natural selves. A…balance of nature and nurture, if you will. The fact that we learn and change was all the evidence he needed. Thus, while tranquility is a _forced_ severing of these two aspects, one _born_ with such a severed nature would simply be unique…able to persist and thrive in this unique natural state…still able to feel and dream and love and hate as all men do.”

Morrigan thought about it. “If emotions come from the connection between these two parts, and the connection was never there, and how would such a person be able to feel?”

Irving leaned back, once again steepling his fingers under his chin. “The mind sees and reasons, while the soul does something more mysterious…it touches the Fade…it penetrates the Veil. The soul allows us to touch that which connects all living things. One with this severed nature would still be able to do all of those things, because the components are still there. The emotional aspect would simply come from a different part of them. Or…from outside of themselves.”

Morrigan shook her head. “That doesn’t make sense.”

Irving shrugged. “If the soul can touch the Fade, and the Fade connects us all, then perhaps the ability to feel would come purely from the connection to the Fade…from the connection to others…rather than as a self-contained quality. But that is one of many mysteries I do not have an answer for. It is all pure speculation. What is more interesting to consider is this: What could be the benefit of having a nature such as the one I have illustrated?”

Morrigan thought about it. “If the mind is the vessel of reason…then that separation might allow the mind to commune with the soul in a different way. To do it…consciously.”

Irving clapped his hands. “Yes! Exactly! One could look into their own soul…examine the very workings of it! And with such a gift, can you not see the possibilities?”

Morrigan was getting excited despite herself. “Such examination could reveal the inner workings of magic. It could allow one to see into the nature of the Fade...directly.”

Irving smiled. “This is what my two companions and I would spend hours debating. What could it mean? There is even more potential than mere knowledge! Perhaps they could use this ability to manipulate their own soul…even in ways that could alter how they interact with the Fade. Or perhaps they could use aspects of the soul to influence their mind’s perception of reality! And remember, the Fade connects all of us. With this ability, one may be able to call out to others across the Veil, to connect in a way that transcends human interaction as we know it! So many possibilities!”

Morrigan sat back. “But this is all theoretical.”

Irving shook his head emphatically. “In our studies, we found evidence that children have indeed been born with this wonderful gift. The evidence was there, in records and old-wives tales. But sadly they…their lives were often cut short.”

“Why?”

Irving’s eyes darkened. “What happens to the mind when it turns inward? When the mind turns from the real word and gazes into the unknown depths of the soul? The small part of the mind left in the world devolves into animal instinct. To hunt, to kill, to hate without restraint. The only way such a child could survive would be to train them to control it. To teach them to gaze inward without letting the madness control them.”

Morrigan looked at the mage closely. “Elissa’s teacher…Vanithan…he was your teacher, wasn’t he?”

Irving smiled. “Such an undertaking requires one with a deep understanding of the mind. Who else could find the strengths and weaknesses in such a child, and keep her from destroying herself?”

Morrigan steepled her own fingers under her chin. “So you believe that is what she is? A…natural tranquil?”

Irving shrugged. “Perhaps. The tranquil mind… _La mente tranquilla_. That was what I called it. Vanithan had a much prettier name for it.”

“Oh?”

Irving smiled, reaching again for his pipe. “ _La mente che vede_. The mind that sees.”

<<>> 

Roland sat beside Zevran on the wall of the rampart, looking out over the village below. The cool breeze was pleasant from this height, and both men were enjoying the ale and smoked fish that comprised their noon meal.

Zevran tossed a fish spine over the side of the rampart, and watched it fall to the ground. He sighed with some satisfaction. His rib was aching from Roland’s last hit. Clearly, being accosted by Elissa had done wonders for the knight's fighting ability.

He took a long drink of ale, enjoying the tart flavors. Despite the wretched food of Ferelden, their drink was strong and refreshing. He found himself growing rather fond of it.

He leaned forward and poured a small amount of his ale into the open air. Roland looked at him with raised brow. He shrugged. “It is an old Antivan tradition. When the food is fine and the company good, you must sacrifice a small bit of what you are enjoying, lest it be snatched from by jealous spirits.”

Roland smiled. “So basically…don’t temp fate?”

Zevran laughed. “You Fereldens butcher poetry. You know this, yes?”

Roland shrugged. “We just believe that you have a set number of words before you die. No use waiting those precious few on flowery speech.”

“Hmm…in other words, don’t tempt fate?”

Roland laughed. “Exactly.”

Zevran leaned forward. “Seems these are wise words, considering our present position on this old wall. A single gust of wind could send us tumbling to our doom. I wonder how long this castle has stood.”

Roland shrugged. “Ask Alistair. He seems to know everything about this place, and is eager to rattle on about it to anyone who will listen.”

“You do not like him very much do you?”

“Do you?”

Zevran leaned back and plucked another smoked fish from the basket. “I don’t like anyone who is so busy watching my every move that he is unable to find his mouth with his food when he eats. I fear my presence has ruined his entire wardrobe. But I suspect your dislike of him has little to do with his atrocious eating habits.”

Roland shrugged. “He talks too much.”

Zevran laughed. “That can’t be the only reason. I talk more than anyone in our merry band and you seem able to stand my company without biting my head off.”

Roland took a drink of his ale. “You talk to say something. He talks to hide a keen mind behind blubbery.”

“Hmmm…are you saying you do not trust him?”

“I don’t really care about him one way or the other.”

“And yet…our fair warden seems very fond of him.”

Roland took a bite of fish.

Zevran sighed. “You love her, Roland. Why do you not fight for her?”

Roland dropped his head. After a few moments, he laughed ruefully. “There is nothing more I can do, Zevran. I played my hand, and lost.”

Zevran was surprised. He heard Elissa scream when Roland fell to the mage, heard the terror in her voice when she thought he was gone. She obviously cared for the knight. “She rejected you? Are you sure?”

“She was clear on the matter. It happened in the Fade…before we fought the demon.”

Zevran whistled. “A tragic romance, my friend. She rejects your love, and yet still you leap into a chasm to save her.”

“I did not jump in to _save_ her. My intentions were…let’s just say that it doesn’t matter now and be done with it. Alright?” Roland's cheeks flushed slightly.  He seemed embarrassed by his own words.

Zevran raised his eyebrows. “That is no explanation, my friend. If you knew you could not save her, then why did you do it?”

Roland sighed loudly. He looked at the ground for a long moment, then up at Zevran. He smiled slightly, and shrugged. “I did not wish to be without her. Satisfied?”

Zevran looked at him incredulously.

_The boy truly loves her. Maker help him._

He shook his head. “No, I am not satisfied. And neither is she. You merit her wrath, my friend.”

Roland shrugged. “I can handle her wrath. But this thing with Alistair…I do not understand it.”

“Her attraction to him you mean? Well, that is obvious.” Zevran sighed. “Her thoughts are full of pain…of the horrors she witnessed. And you witnessed them as well. It is in your eyes when you look at her. And she does not want to see it. Alistair talks about nothing and smiles for no reason. She can…forget with him.”

Roland shrugged. “I understand that part. I meant…I don’t understand what _he_ sees in _her_.”

Zevran almost choked on his ale. “That is very ungallant of you, my friend.”

Roland shook his head. “C’mon Zevran. She is not the kind of woman a man like him _should_ be with. She is impossible to please, has the temper of damned bull, and is one of the cruelest people I have ever met…especially when she is angry. She is also a pain in the ass…and that’s on a good day. Why would he want that?”

“Once could just as easily ask you the same question.”

Roland smiled. “My confession is over. Besides, there is not nearly enough ale here for that tale.”

They heard a commotion at the gates below and both leaned over to look. A wagon full of refugees passed through the outer wall, and the sounds of children singing a Chantry song drifted up to them. They both walked to the inner side of the ramparts and looked out over the scene below.

Zevran saw Alistair and Elissa rushing towards the newcomers. After talking briefly with the Chantry priest that drove the wagon, Alistair pulled one of the children from the back and placed him on the ground in front of Elissa. The look on her face was one that Zevran had never seen there before…warm and hopeful…like a little girl getting ready to burst into song.

She crouched down and pinched the little boy on the tip of the nose and then gathered him into her arms, laughing and spinning him around.

Zevran looked over at Roland, who was watching the scene with a thoughtful look on his face.

After speaking with the priest and directing him to Redcliffe’s Chantry, Elissa led the little boy away from the others. Alistair motioned to her and she lifted the boy onto his back. Elissa smiled at Alistair. He reached out, gently touching her face. She grabbed his hand and smiled, walking with him towards the keep.

Roland turned from the scene and bent down to pick up the remains of his lunch. Zevran turned to speak to him, but he held his hand up for silence. Zevran waited for him to gather his thoughts.

After a few minutes, Roland finally spoke. “I don’t really care if she makes him miserable or not. Honestly…it is probably good for him to get a little tough love from that crazy woman. As long as he makes her happy, then I’ll…get over it. No more jumping into endless pits, at any rate. Fair enough?”

Zevran nodded. “So what will you do now?”

Roland shrugged. After a moment, he smiled and clapped Zevran on the back. “I always liked the name Bella. Shall we go to the tavern?”

<<>> 

“You are awfully quiet over there, Alistair.”

“I was just thinking about the first time we met.”

Elissa wiped the sweat from her brow. The afternoon heat was stifling in the small room, and the heat from the bath was making it almost intolerable. “Oh? Why is that?”

Although she couldn’t see his face over the mound of bubbles that separated them, she could hear the smile in his voice. “I remember very distinctly asking if you were a mage. You said no at the time, but I think you may have been lying.”

“Why would you say that?”

He grumbled in reply, “How else could you convince me to help with this?”

Elissa blew a piece of hair out her face. The little boy was slippery, and trying to hold on to him long enough to scrub the dirt away was more exhausting than her rare attempts at bathing her mabari. Thus, her answer came with no little sarcasm.

“If I were a mage, don’t you think I would have used magic to get him clean?”

Alistair’s reply was equally frustrated. “I think you orchestrated this bathing nonsense because you like to watch me suffer.”

A sound of dismay sounded from the large copper tub, followed by an “ouch” as Elissa yanked at the boy’s hand to work on scrubbing his fingernails.

Wynne’s voice wafted in from the hallway. “I would argue that the poor child you two are scrubbing is the one that is suffering.”

The boy continued to struggle under their ministrations, and Wynne knelt beside Elissa to pour warm water over him. He yelped in surprise, and Wynne tsked at him, though Elissa noticed the old mage was smiling. Standing in the tub was a pale little boy, free of dirt and pink from scrubbing.

With the bubbles gone, Elissa could see Alistair on the other side of the tub. His shirt was drenched and his face was as red as the little boy’s hair. He caught her eye and pointed the sponge at her menacingly. “You’ll pay for this.”

She stood, dropping her own sponge on the floor. “He needs to look presentable. Besides, it wasn’t that bad.”

“Not for you! I’m surprised the little bugger has any skin left. No wonder he was squirming to get away from us.” He stood, reaching down to rub the boy’s head and give him a sympathetic wink.

Wynne held out a towel for the boy and looked at Alistair. “I imagine you were much the same when you were his age.”

Alistair’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “Worse. The old cook used to force me into a bath at least once a week, and I did my best to make it as unpleasant for her as it was for me. Of course,” he smiled and nodded towards Elissa, “I wouldn’t have fought nearly so much if she looked like her.”

Elissa rolled her eyes. She helped the child out of the tub and let Wynne attend to drying him off. “Did you manage to find clothes for him?”

Alistair handed her a bundle of clothes. “One of the stable boys had an outfit to spare. I have no idea if it will fit. All these little buggers look the same size to me.”

The boy spoke up as Wynne and Elissa dressed him. “I never been bathed in a real grown-up tub before! Mum used to wash me with a pale of water and a scrub brush in the front yard. And whenever I fidgeted, she would wallop me over the head with it.”

Elissa found a comb and started brushing his hair. “Your mum sounds like a tough woman, little one.” She attempted unsuccessfully to tame his wild red hair.

The boy sighed. “I wish she was here.”

Elissa stopped brushing his hair and put her hands on his shoulders. “What is your name?”

He rubbed his nose. “Martin. Martin Trebben.”

She smiled. “Martin is a good name. A strong name for a strong little boy. I could see young Martin Trebben saving damsels in distress."

He rubbed his nose again. “I don’t want to save damsels. I want to fight dragons!”

Alistair shook his head. “That’s the whole point, kid. You get to fight the dragon first. Then, once you get finished with all the killing, the fair maiden falls into your arms, weeping. Then you have to say the magic words.”

“What words?”

Alistair stood straight and put a fist to his chest. “ _Fear not! I will protect you, fair lady_.”

Elissa knelt before Martin, tucking his shirt into his pants. “Now Martin…I am going to take you to meet the lady of the house. Her name is Isolde. She is a good woman, a kindhearted…,” Alistair made a noise and she shot him a glance, “a _kindhearted_ noblewoman. I want you to be very respectful when you meet her. Be polite and mind your manners. Promise?”

Martin nodded. Elissa took his hand. She smiled gratefully at Wynne and motioned for Alistair to join her. He nodded, resignedly, and followed her out into the hallway.

“Do you really think this is going to work?”

She shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. It is worth a try.”

“I think it will be harder to convince her with me in the room. Maybe I should let you do it alone.”

Elissa shook her head. “I think having you there will remind of things that she needs to be reminded of.”

“You mean, how much she dislikes little boys?”

Martin tugged at Elissa’s hand. “I thought you said she was nice!”

Elissa looked down and gave his hand a squeeze. “Did you think you mum was nice when she walloped you with her scrub brush?”

“I guess not.”

Elissa nodded sagely, glancing at Alistair and daring him to contradict her.

“Well…let’s just say Isolde used to wallop Alistair here. And he turned into a Grey Warden, despite having a lumpy head.” Alistair shot her an evil glance and she stuck her tongue out at him. “Everyone has good parts and bad parts, Martin. And a good little boy will find there are plenty of good parts to Lady Isolde. Don’t be afraid.”

He gulped loudly, and let the wardens lead him down the hall.

When they entered the Arl’s study, Lady Isolde bowed politely to Elissa.

“I appreciate the plight of the Lothering children, Lady Cousland. Thank you for bringing these new arrivals to my attention. I will see to it that the Chantry has the funds it needs to take care of them and will assist in finding them suitable homes as soon as it can be arranged.”

Elissa smiled, hoping it looked innocent. “Very good, my lady. Young Martin here would be especially grateful for your help.” She looked at the boy. “Martin, why don’t you tell Lady Isolde what happened to you in Lothering.”

He nodded solemnly, turning his big eyes to the noble lady. “The bad creatures came to our house in the night. They threw fire at our hut and the smoke was so thick it was hard to see. Mum told me to flee to the village, to run as fast as I could. She said she would meet me there. But….” he glanced up at Elissa, “I…I think she stayed behind to…to fight the bad men so I could...” he looked up at Elissa again and she smiled, encouraging, “…so I could run in the wild grasses and be safe.” He finished quickly and dropped his head. “When mother did not come to the village, the Chantry sisters brought me here.”

Elissa tuned to Isolde. “The poor child. His mother was very brave, giving her life for him.”

Isolde gulped. “Yes…very brave…”

“I hope that the boy will be placed with a woman as brave as his own mother. Someone who would give her life for her children. And perhaps…someone who knows how to raise a young man.”

Isolde nodded. “Yes…of…of course. I think that can be arranged. There are several suitable families in the village who…”

Elissa interrupted, ruffling the boy’s hair as she spoke. “I mean, I had no idea how to tame these wild tresses. Of course, _I_ have never mothered a young boy before and…”

Isolde tsked, walking towards the boy and pulling a silver comb from her dress pocket. “It is not all that difficult.” She knelt in front of the boy. “Connor’s hair was the same. I was the only one who could do anything with it.” Her hands shook as she proceeded to comb his hair. “You just have to brush it in the direction of the natural waves.”

Elissa shot a quick wink to Alistair. He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

After fussing over him for a few minutes, Isolde made a satisfied sound. “There. How do you like that, Martin?”

Elissa noticed that Isolde’s bottom lip was quivering. She held her breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

Obviously, Martin noticed as well. He looked at her queerly. “Are you sad, Lady Isolde?”

Isolde mumbled something incoherent, tears forming in her eyes. Martin reached out and hugged her…an awkward hug, like little boys often give when they are not sure what else to do.

Isolde hesitated for a moment, and hugged the little boy in return. Martin patted her back and spoke in his stoutest voice. “Fear not fair lady. I will protect you.”

Isolde burst into tears, hugging the little boy tightly. Elissa motioned to Alistair, and the two of them left the room.

Alistair was smiling from ear to ear as they walked down the hall. When they made it to the stairs, Elissa put her hands on her hips and turned towards him.

“What are you smiling about?”

He continued smiling. “I know your secret now.”

“Oh?”

“Mmhmm.” He moved closer to her, placing his hands through her arms and grabbing her waist. “You try to act all tough and heartless, but when it comes down to it, you are as sweet as apple pie on the inside.”

She huffed at him, keeping her hands on her waist. “I am no such thing.”

He leaned down and paced a soft kiss on her neck. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

She huffed again. “I’ll have you know that I told Roland to jump into a well today.”

He pulled her closer, nestling his face in the crook of her neck. “Hmmm…well, I am sure you did it for his own good.”

She smiled, relaxing her arms and enjoying the feeling of his voice against her skin. “No…I did it because I am a cruel and unfeeling wench.”

He laughed and pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her tightly. “I have to admit…I like the wench part.”

She laughed in spite of herself. Wrapping her arms around him, she nudged his head up until she could look him in the eye. “Not a word to the others. It would upset the balance of power if they thought I was a weakling.”

He smiled, moving his lips until they almost touched hers. “If you want my lips sealed, Lady Cousland…you will have to find other uses for them.”

Elissa, finding herself unable to fault his logic, proceeded to do just that.

<<>> 

Morrigan walked with Irving through the garden. His rooms had become unbearably hot in the noon sun, and they both decided to continue their conversation in the open air. His templar guard stayed a respectful distance behind, but they still spoke carefully.

“I have thought on all you said.”

Irving smiled. “I was hoping you would.”

“If Vanithan knew all of this, why did he not tell Elissa about it?”

“Ahh…well, the simplest answer is…that is not his way. He is firm believer in letting others examine themselves. To tell her would not allow her to fully understand it.”

“But she does not understand it! She has no idea the potential she has.”

“You think not? She is a gifted warrior, able to fight with unprecedented skill. She is currently leading a small group to gather an army for the Blight. She is respected by her comrades and, from what I can tell, loved by some of them as well. What more would you ask of her?”

“You know what I mean. She considers her gift a burden.”

“And so it is. You have seen the damage it can cause.”

“I suppose. And yet…I believe she has a right to know.”

Irving shook his head. “If you tell her, she will not _know_. She will be a reflection of your words, nothing more.”

“Then why did you tell me all of this?”

Irving’s eyes darkened. “‘Two reasons. First, you may need this knowledge as you travel with her. Who knows what the future holds for your group? Imagine how this knowledge may have helped you in the Fade? And second…she is a Grey Warden. I know what that means, as do you. Her blood is tainted. I am…concerned.”

“You think the taint may be dangerous to one such as her?”

“The taint is dangerous to anyone. But…there is no accounting for how it will affect a mind as unique as hers. You must watch her and try, as much as you can, to protect her. As her friend, I hope you can do this.”

“This is why you waited to tell any of us. You waited until you found one of us who considers her a friend, didn’t you?”

He smiled. “Yes. Her knight was my first choice. His devotion to her is clear. But he does not have the detachment to be able to use this knowledge. The reason Vanithan was able to train her so effectively was because he could hurt her if it was necessary. I believe you can as well. You must be prepared to do whatever is required to keep her safe…even if it means pain.”

Morrigan nodded. “Do you have any advice?”

“Yes. I believe you should do as Isolde has requested. I know the Warden is determined to travel the shorter road to Orzammar. Convince her to go to Denerim first. She should seek out Ferdinand. He may very well know of a cure for Eamon’s illness…sacred ashes or no. And he will have better insight into how the taint may affect her. Either way, it is worth going to Denerim to find what has become of him.”

“Are you sure you do not speak with some selfish interests for your friend?”

“Maybe a little. But no…I believe that of the three of us, Ferdinand may have the answers she seeks.”

“Is Vanithan still alive?”

“I do not know. He disappeared after the Couslands dismissed him. He is old now. Although…he never really seemed to age. And he always kept his own council and his own secrets. Yet…I believe he loved her very much. And her reputation and news of her deeds are already spreading. If he is still alive, he may seek her out on his own.”

They stopped walking. Morrigan looked at him closely. “Why did you not tell your templars that I am an apostate?”

He smiled. “You are no threat to yourself or to others…unless you mean to be. Just as you could sense my powers, I can sense yours. Your skills will be important to help stop the Blight…we both know that.”

“Will you speak to Elissa again before we leave?”

“No. She knows it is time to leave and I do not wish to detain her.” He smiled. “It was a rare pleasure to speak with a free mage, Morrigan. You are a captivating woman.”

Morrigan smiled. “And it was surprising for me to find that not all Circle mages are completely useless.”

<<>> 

Elissa made her way to the stables. She left her armor in her room for one of the servants to oil, and thus walked about in simple woolen shirt and her doe-skinned breeches. She walked slowly, enjoying the subtle chill in the night air. It was growing cooler, and she pulled her fur-lined hood up over head.

She hesitated when she reached the stable doors.

After a few deep breaths, she mustered her courage and knocked. She heard shuffling inside, and just as she was about to flee, Alistair opened the door.

He looked surprised to see her. “Elissa…errr…what time is it?”

She realized he was only wearing a pair of pants, and was both bare-chested and barefoot. She gulped. “It’s late. I thought…oh…never mind…I am sorry to wake you…”

He grabbed her arm as she turned to leave. “No, don’t go. I wasn’t really asleep. Do you…would you like to come in?”

She smiled. “Yes. Thank you.”

She entered the stables with him, taking the time to pet one of the horses on the nose. Alistair spoke from behind her. “That one is Felix. He is Teagan’s horse. A good horse, but a little temperamental. I think Teagan spoils him.”

Elissa tried to ignore the thumping in her chest. She turned to him and smiled. “I can relate. My horse was too spoiled for her own good.”

Alistair smiled. “I can imagine. I see how you spoil that mutt of yours.”

“Hmmm…do you know I have barely seen Tellux the whole time we’ve been here? Sten barley lets me have any time with him. He keeps taking him fishing.”

Alistair laughed. “You know why, don’t you?”

Elissa looked perplexed. Alistair laughed again. “I walked past the docks the other day and saw them together. Sten was sitting with his pole, not getting a bite. Tellux was out in the lake swimming, and catching fish in his teeth. He brings his catch to Sten.”

Elissa laughed. “So basically, Sten is using my dog’s fishing ability to hide the fact that he is terrible at it? I feel less abandoned now.” She shook her head. “I did tell Tellux to protect you all. I guess that command includes protecting qunari pride.”

Alistair smiled. “It doesn’t hurt to keep the giant happy. He is annoyed that we’ve stayed here so long. I think he is itching to fight some darkspawn.” Alistair rubbed his nose. There was a moment of awkward silence between them, He cleared his throat. “I have some wine up in the loft. Would you like some?”

Elissa smiled, speaking a bit too quickly. “Why not? We should celebrate our amazing teamwork. Isolde has already installed Martin into one of the guestrooms. I walked by the door to his room and she was reading him a story.”

“It was good of you to do that for the boy, Elissa.”

She shrugged. “I did it more for Isolde than him. She is lonely and afraid. He will give her something to keep her mind occupied.”

Alistair grunted. “Well…good for her. Who knows? Maybe she will become a nice person after all.”

Elissa found the ladder to the loft. “Is this where you sleep?”

“Err…yes.”

“Do you mind if I have a look?”

Alistair gulped. “Ummm…sure…”

He followed her up the ladder. Elissa looked around the small room. The small cot look comfortable enough. Alistair’s gear was scattered here and there, and she smiled at the mess. She picked up a small rune stone from the table next to his bed. “A good luck charm?”

He smiled shyly. “I have always liked rune stones. I used to collect them. In fact…” He reached around her, pulling a small box from a hiding place at the head of the cot. “I was surprised these were still here after all of these years.”

He held the box open for her to peer inside at his childhood treasures. She could barely see them. She realized that although she had seen him several times in camp with no shirt on, it was different standing so close to him. The heat from his skin seemed to reach out and touch her. Her eyes narrowed in on a single bead of sweat, drifting down his neck. She reached out without thinking, catching it with her fingertip before it fell down his chest.

She heard his breath catch and looked up at him. His amber eyes regarded her with an expression she had never seen before. He closed the box, reaching behind her to place it back in its hiding place. She stood still, letting his arm graze past her waist. She held her breath.

He straightened up slowly, letting his arm drift against her. His hand stopped on her hip, and he pulled her against him, his lips finding hers.

Elissa pressed her body into his. She was aware that this was the first time they had kissed with so little material between them. The thin wool of her shirt did little to hide the curves of her body. She could feel the lines of his chest pressed against hers. She kissed him with more energy, running her fingertips softly up and down his back. A deep sound came from his chest, and he pulled her closer to him.

His hands drifted up her waist and circled around her back. His lips left her mouth and found her neck. She reached up, running her fingernails across his scalp.

She felt his hands unclench from her back. One hand rested tentatively on her shoulder while the other grazed the back of her neck. His hands seemed to flex awkwardly, as if he were fighting to keep them under control. Her body was practically screaming for him to touch her.

For the first time, his shyness frustrated her.

She took a deep breath, pulling away from him slightly. His eyes were deep golden, looking at her hungrily. She held her breath, and reached down. With one quick motion, she pulled her shirt over her head.

Alistair’s eyes were huge. They dropped to her exposed breasts and widened even further. She watched as his cheeks flushed. He looked excited and slightly terrified.

She didn’t want to lose the momentum. She reached out and gripped one of his hands. It felt heavy, as if he had forgotten how to move it. She placed it on her breast. She heard his breath catch, but was too afraid to look in his eyes. Instead, she watched as his hand slightly squeezed her breast. He flattened his palm against it, letting is softly drift across her skin. She felt her nipple harden under his touch, her own breath catching at the odd sensation.

He groaned slightly and she felt her body being pulled into his. His kisses were no longer gentle. He kissed her like the taste of her mouth was as necessary as air. He kept his hand on her breast, gently kneading it. She sighed at his touch and he increased the pressure.

The sensation of his touch felt like it was traveling through her whole body. She felt hungry and thirsty all at once, like she could devour him if he gave her the chance. Every hair on her body felt like it was reaching towards him. Without thinking, she reached down and grabbed his buttocks, pulling him closer. She lost her balance and they fell together onto his small cot.

Suddenly, he was on top of her and she could feel his body along the length of hers. His weight felt good to her, but he tensed up immediately, leaning back and holding himself above her.

His voice was husky but afraid. “Elissa…wait.”

She shook her head, linking her fingers behind his neck and holding his gaze. She could see how frightened he was. She had to be the brave one. She spoke breathlessly. “Alistair. I want to.”

He shook his head. “So do I. Believe me. But…I…I don’t think…”

She shook her head, pulling his face towards hers. “Stop thinking.” She kissed him, aware that her breasts were touching his chest and doing all she could to maintain that contact. He was hesitant at first, then seemed to relax a little. He touched her face as they kissed.

She arched into him, and felt the hardness pressed against her thigh. His breath caught and he pulled back from her in alarm.

She grabbed the hand that rested on her neck and moved it once again to her breast. She heard the aching sound from his throat. She knew that he wanted her as badly as she wanted him. Why was he resisting?

“Just touch me, Alistair. Please.”

He looked at his hand like it didn’t belong to him. He took a deep breath, and then leaned down again, kissing her. But his hand was frozen against her breast and he kept his body held away from her, holding his weight on one arm. She tried to arch into him again, hoping that she would feel his hardness against her, but he kept his body inches above hers. She started to move her hand slowly down his chest as they kissed, taking advantage of his awkward position above her. He tensed up again, his body like stone. She let her fingers drifts towards the top of his pants.

He pushed himself away from her and jumped to his feet. He stood looking at her, his face frustrated.

Suddenly, she realized that he wasn’t going to participate. She sat up, crossing her arms across her chest. She was mortified.

Alistair tried to speak, his voice cracking. “Please. Don’t be upset. I just…I’m not…”

Elissa was hurt by his rejection. She dropped her head, unable to look at him. Her voice sounded like a stranger’s. “Forget it. You don’t want me. I…understand.”

She felt the bed move as he sat next to her. His hand touched her cheek and she flinched away from him. His voice was panicked. “Elissa…please. That’s not it at all! Please don’t be upset.”

She shook her head, trying to fight the tears that were threatening. “I am not upset.” She could hear the lie in her voice.  She didn't understand why it was so upsetting to her. He obviously wanted to take things slowly.  She knew that about him...even _liked_ that about him.  But something felt different tonight. She needed him in a way that she had never needed anyone before.

It felt strange, the desire that suddenly filled her when he answered his door. She had only meant to sneak a few hours alone with him, away from prying eyes.  But as soon as she touched his bare skin, a strange greed filled her. She wanted him more than she had ever wanted anything. And it hurt her that he did not feel the same.

He tried to touch her again, and she moved her whole body away from him. He sighed. “Please…stop moving away from me, Elissa. Let me explain.”

She stood quickly, desperate to get away from him. She found her shirt and pulled it on in quick, angry motions. She kept her back to him. “You don’t have to explain anything. I am big girl. I understand rejection.”

He moved so fast that she could not get away in time. His hands found her shoulders and he turned her around to face him. She kept her head, down. She was too embarrassed to look at him.

He pulled her to him, holding her with both arms wrapped firmly around her. He was shaking. “Please listen. I am not…rejecting you. I want you more than I can explain. I just…I am not ready for this yet. It’s…it’s too much too soon. This whole thing is just…overwhelming.”

She pulled away from him. A few tears fell, but she swiped them away angrily. “Then why did you start it? I told you I wasn’t ready for a relationship, but you forced the issue. Then, when I finally agree, you…reject me.”

He shook his head, his voice desperate. “I am not rejecting you! Damn it, just listen to me! Being with you has meant everything to me. I feel like…like the luckiest man in the world that you agreed to let me be a part of your life. I just…I think we should wait for this part. I feel like we need…I want to know you better before we do this.”

She shook her head again. She was so embarrassed that it was hard to be in the same room with him. “Bullshit.”

He almost growled. “It is not bullshit. Listen. I am not….experienced. At…all. I have never been this close to woman. I have never…umm…touched a woman before tonight. Do you understand how strange this all for me?”

She didn’t answer. He put his hand under her chin and forced her to look up at him. “When you let me…touch you…I felt things that I…that I have never felt before. And for a few moments I…I didn’t feel like myself.  And I don’t want to...do _that_ with you unless I can be…unless I can be myself. Completely. Does that make any sense?”

Elissa nodded, though she didn’t quite understand. He sighed. “I need to do this more slowly. I need to get used to…feeling this way about you. I want to touch you and I want to enjoy it but I also want to be… _aware_ of it. I want us to have that with each other but I want it to be more than just our bodies that are doing it. I want it to be you and me. Is that…I mean…can we try that? You know…take it slow so that I don’t…get lost?”

Elissa smiled tentatively. “Are you serious? You are not trying to…mollify me?”

He smiled, the relief clear on his face. “I am not that subtle.”

Elissa pulled away from him. She paced the room for a few moments “So how do we do this? I mean…it’s not like we are going to have very many opportunities on the road to…you know…get to know one another like that.”

Alistair’s eyebrows drew together. “No…I guess not. But I think it is worth waiting so that we can do it right. Maybe you could…maybe you could stay here with me tonight. We could sleep together…with our clothes… _on_. And we could just…get used to being close to one another. Would that be alright?”

Elissa laughed. “I don’t know. Your cot is a little small. We’ll practically be on top of each other the whole night.”

Alistair smiled. He reached out and pulled her to him. He kissed her passionately, but playfully. She felt her heart speed up. He pulled back slightly, speaking against her lips. “I know.”

Neither of them slept much. Alistair seemed more comfortable with her now that they had clearly defined boundaries. They kissed passionately through the night. Her shirt managed to find its way to the floor and his hand found her breast again. This time, it was his decision to touch her. She leaned back, enjoying the sensation of his callused fingers against the sensitive skin. Alistair watched in fascination as her nipples responded to his touch. He was mesmerized by the sounds she made as he touched her. As the night deepened, his lips travelled from her throat down her chest. When he took her nipple into his mouth, Elissa gripped the edge of the cot and had to focus to keep from crying out.

He seemed perfectly content to continue his ministrations, but Elissa was determined to have her share. She managed to get him on his back so she could have her turn at touching him. She explored the hard ridges of his sculpted chest, tracing the taut muscles of his abdomen. He squirmed a little when she softly brushed her fingertips over his nipples. He let her kiss his chest, running his fingers through her hair as she moved ever downward. When she flicked her tongue into his belly button, he writhed like she was torturing him.

To make her stop, he pulled her up by the shoulders until she was laying on top of him. She felt him harden against her again. She tentatively rolled her hips, feeling the movement of her pelvis against his length. His eyes rolled back in his head and he grabbed her buttock, pulling her closer to him and urging her to repeat the movement. She obliged him, softly biting his neck as she did so. He groaned and pressed into her again, catching her lips with his.

His kiss was demanding and deep. She tried not to smirk, aware that he was moving beyond the boundaries of his comfort zone. She didn’t want him to pull away again. Instead, she focused on moving against him.

Without warning, he rolled atop her, pressing into her again and again. He seemed more eager now.

She whispered against his ear. “Let me touch you, Alistair.”

He nodded against her neck, unable to speak. They rolled again, pressed against one another but lying on their sides. She moved her hand to the bulge in his pants and rubbed. He cried out softy in the darkness. The sound of his voice sent strange chills through her, and she suddenly felt oddly possessive of his body. She wanted him to _belong_ to her. And she had an idea of how she could claim him.

She slowly worked her hands down the front his pants, kissing him and nibbling his lips to keep him distracted. When her bare hand touched him, he shivered uncontrollably, but did not stop her. He closed his eyes and bit his bottom lip as she worked her hand up and down his shaft. His hips started moving with the motion of her hand.

She watched him in fascination. He was close to losing control, and the sense of power that coursed through her as she watched him was intoxicating. She wanted more of him, all of him. She wanted him to lose himself, to give himself to her completely. This strange need was like nothing she had ever felt before.

_What is wrong with me?_

She continued stroking him, untying his breeches with her other hand to allow her better access. Free of the burden of fabric, she was able to lengthen her strokes, trying new things and watching him for signals to figure out what he wanted. Alistair clutched her to him and moved his whole body with the motion of her hand. His face scrunched up and his breathing was little more than gasps for air.

After a few moments, he buried his face in her neck and cried out against her. She felt the flood of warmth on her hand, and she was satisfied beyond words that she was able to give him such pleasure.

She felt him grow soft in her hands. He was perfectly still for a long time, breathing heavily into the crook of her neck. She wasn’t sure what to do about the mess, and shifted uncomfortably. Alistair seemed to regain his grip on reality and found a piece of cloth for her to use. He smiled at her apologetically. “Sorry about that. I wasn’t planning on that happening.”

She smiled and nestled into his chest. “Maybe trying to plan for everything is not the way to go about this.”

She felt his whole body move as he laughed. After a few moments, he whispered into her ear. “I would like to do the same for you. Do you…I mean…is it the same?”

Elissa considered. “I…I don’t really know. I mean…I am as inexperienced as you in many ways. I have never…ummm...”

“But I thought that you...you said you were not a virgin.”

“I’m not but…I have only done it once before and it was…over pretty quickly. I didn’t really…touch him like that. And he didn’t…ahh…touch me either, really.”

He nodded. “Hmmm…well that’s…I am kind of…glad."  His voice dropped to a whisper. "Do you want me to…ummm…is there anything I can do for you?”

She was suddenly shy. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to lose herself in front of him. Suddenly, she understood his initial reserve. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to…it was just that such a thing required trust. And the odd feeling of hunger that possessed her earlier had passed as suddenly as it came. She felt more like herself again. More in control of her emotions.

Not only that, but she rather enjoyed having the upper hand.

She giggled at the thought. He looked at her curiously and she shook her head. “Maybe we can save that for the next time we…s _leep_ …together.” She yawned. “Speaking of sleep…we have a lot to do tomorrow.”

He tightened his grip around her, almost panicked. “Will you sleep here?” He touched her face softly, whispering. “I…I don’t want you to leave.”

Elissa was happy that they had moved a beyond their awkward beginning. She was even happier that instead of creating a wedge between them, it seemed to draw them closer together. She smiled, closing her eyes and resting her head against his chest.

“I’ll stay.”


	30. Waking Up

Roland was lying on his side, his head propped up in his hand, staring down at Bella’s sleeping form. She was stretched out peacefully on her belly, her reddish-blond hair splayed out on her pillow, her pink lips opened slightly as she dreamed. The thin blanket that covered them both had slipped down sometime in the night, and her back was exposed in the soft morning light.

He reached over and traced the small freckles that ran along her shoulders, humming a snippet of an old song under his breath. She murmured slightly in her sleep.

Zevran was right about her…she did have captivating eyes. They were deep green with flecks of gold, and her gaze was direct without being intrusive. When she invited Roland to her room, there had been no shame in her request. It was a simple acknowledgment that she desired his company. He was relieved that he didn’t have to suffer through simpering wordplay. In light of his mood the previous evening, her straightforward manner was a welcome relief.

He touched his finger to her lips, tracing them softly. Her lips turned up faintly into a small smile, before turning down again. She rarely smiled on purpose, as far as he could tell. He suspected she was self-conscious about the little twisted tooth that peeked out when she did.

Roland thought that tiny flaw made her look lovely.

He sighed, moving his fingers to her back and letting them drift up and down her spine. It was so easy, too easy, for him to find beauty in the women he slept with. From the moment his hands touched them, he became painfully aware of their skin, their smell, of the little quirks that they tried to hide but that were inevitably exposed. He always enjoyed that part the most…the moment when they gave themselves to him completely.

It was the moment when he could escape his own thoughts and find solace in theirs.

Roland was never reserved during lovemaking. For him, the experience was all or nothing. He found endless comfort in the arms of the women he slept with, often going back again and again for more when he lay with them.

He wanted to stay lost. He wanted to forget.

His appetite for them was almost insatiable, and he would find himself reaching for them long after exhaustion drained his faculties. It often took several hours after he left their beds to lose the urge to be with them again.

He shook his head. That wasn’t really true. While he wanted their bodies, he never had any desire for much beyond that. It was the reason he had never formed an attachment with any of his lovers.

It was not that he took sex lightly. In fact, it was quite the opposite. His passionate nature would not allow him to regard sex as a trivial matter, and he always chose his partners with care. He treated the women in his life with respect and honesty, and he never had more than one lover at a time. For Roland, intimacy was a bond of trust.

Yet the end was always inevitable.

Some women clung to him longer than others, but eventually, they all realized the same thing. While he would give them every part of himself in bed, he could not bring himself to give them more than his body. And despite their denials, their assurances that it would be enough, they all eventually demanded more than he could give them.

They wanted him to love them. But Roland never could.

Elissa’s face flashed through his mind, her golden hair catching the sunlight, her dark eyes searching his. Her eyes could see everything in him, knew everything that he was and everything that he wanted to be. And Roland knew that he could never love another.

He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think of Elissa again, not like that. He wanted to bury that longing, burn it away. It was pointless, especially now. It brought him nothing but pain.

And yet…no matter what he did…no matter how many women he slept with…he couldn’t seem to let her go.

Roland opened his eyes.

He knew that Bella was a strong woman. She worked in a tavern, and knew the ways of men. He could walk away without causing her any pain. Roland had never taken a woman’s virginity and never dallied with anyone that did not already have the wisdom to understand what he wanted from them. He never felt guilty about his actions, because he never lied about what he was.

Roland had never loved anyone but Elissa. He had never uttered those words to another, and probably never would again. He wondered fleetingly if that was why he could give everything away during sex. Without real affection, without love…it was just a moment. Exquisite, yes. Powerful, of course. But it was just a moment. It did not mark him. It could not change who he was.

He leaned down, letting his lips linger just above Bella’s ear. The small smile returned to her lips.

Roland knew he should leave now. He needed to get away from her bed, away from the musky smell of the sheets, away from her enticing body. He needed to walk, to run, to get his practice blades, to burn the desire out of his system as soon as possible. But she looked so tempting in the morning sun, her pale skin warming under his touch.

He needed to have her one more time.

He let his lips drift softly to the top of her spine, kissing her. He moved slowly downwards, kissing down the length of her back, letting the warm air from his mouth tickle her delicate skin.

Finally, she woke up. She rolled over, exposing her tiny pink nipples to him. He smiled, leaning down and licking each one, curling his tongue around them until they stood stiff. She knotted her hands in his hair. He moved lower, teasing her, nipping at her belly. She giggled, and he smiled.

He heard her voice, still thick with sleep. “Again, knight? I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it out of this bed if we keep at it.”

He ignored her, spreading her legs open and running his nose down her belly, flicking his tongue out at the exact moment that he felt her heat against his face. She arched up automatically, tightening her grip on his hair and crying out softly.

Roland took his time, caressing her with his tongue, enjoying the wetness, the taste of her, the writhing of her body. He wanted it to last longer than it did. He knew that _he_ would not last long enough to give her much pleasure after this, and he wanted her to enjoy this moment as long as possible. But he had spent all night learning what she liked, and it was almost too easy now. She cried out within minutes.

He couldn’t wait for her to relax again. He felt like he was going to explode.

He rolled her over, wrapping one long arm around her waist and pulling her up on all fours. She tilted her head back and moaned when he entered her. He tried not to make a sound…he wanted to listen to her respond. But it was impossible to stay silent.

His body moved on its own, drawn by the wetness and warmth of hers. He pulled her up, settling her back against his chest and wrapping her arm around his neck. He wanted to bite her neck as he thrust into her, massage her breast with his other hand. Her gold and red hair spilled over his shoulder and she cried out as he did just that.

When she turned her face and found his lips with hers, he accepted her lips gladly, desperate for something to ground him so that he could make the moment stretch out. He moved the hand that was locked around her waist to the lovely mound of reddish gold hair between her legs, using his long fingers to bring her pleasure as he found his. She sighed into his mouth as he touched her, which made him thrust even harder into her.

It did not last long. Roland felt his end coming, and wrapped both arms around her, crushing her in his embrace, clutching her breasts in both hands. Everything in him rushed out in one exquisite moment.

He didn’t think of Elissa and her rejection. He didn’t feel the pain that came with loving her and not being able to stop. All he could feel was the unfurling of the tightness in his stomach and the exploding warmth that seemed to fill him and flow out of him at the same time.

When they were finished, Bella pulled away and rolled over, dragging his exhausted body down with hers. She ran her hands through his hair as he lay on top of her, his face buried between her soft breasts. If she minded his weight, she didn’t say so.

After a while, she spoke, her breath tickling his hair. “Are you leaving?”

Roland nodded, too exhausted to speak.

He felt her nod in return. “Will you come back tonight?”

He hesitated, then shook his head.

She sighed. “It’s probably for the best. But if you change your mind, knight…you are welcome.”

Roland lifted himself from her. He kissed her on the tip of her nose before pushing away completely. He stood, walking to her small dresser and pouring water from the ceramic jug into the matching basin. He didn’t bother washing his face and hands. Instead, he held the bowl up and poured the water directly over his head, letting it run down his body, shaking his head like a dog. He found his pants and pulled them on, careful to keep his back to her.

He felt her move behind him. She tapped his shoulder.

He turned, and she offered him his shirt. He took it without a word, avoiding her eyes, and quickly put it on.

Once he was completely dressed, he turned and looked at her. She had remained in the bed, the sheet wrapped around her, her freckled shoulders peeking out from her little cocoon. She was sitting back, resting on her knees, looking at him with those lovely green eyes. He leaned towards her and touched her hair, smoothing the tangled strands and pushing them back from her brow. He traced her upper lip with his thumb.

“You are a beautiful woman, Bella. And I am grateful that you shared your bed with me.”

She looked surprised, then smiled shyly, covering her mouth with her hand. He quickly pulled her hand away, his brow creasing in annoyance. She looked at him questioningly, and he held her hand down until she smiled again, revealing her little twisted tooth.

He returned her smile, kissing her quickly on the forehead. Then he turned and left the room.  

<<>> 

Elissa opened her eyes slowly.

The sunlight seemed to be everywhere, filtering in through the cracks between the old beams of the ceiling. She gave her eyes time to adjust to the light, tracing the movement of tiny flecks of dust as they whirled above her.

She felt something heavy and warm on top of her, holding her in place. She lifted her head slightly and realized it was Alistair’s arm.

She twisted her neck to see his face. He was snoring softly beside her, his mouth open in a little “o” shape that made him look like a little boy. She grinned, despite herself.

Elissa tried to wriggle out from under his large arm, but Alistair grunted in his sleep and his arm tightened around her convulsively. After a few moments, his snores resumed.

She laid back, her heart beating frantically. She tried to relax, but her instincts were screaming at her to escape. She calmed herself by trying to figure out how to manage it.

She closed her eyes, thinking back on the previous night. She felt her cheeks heat up at the thought of what happened.

_What in the Maker’s name came over me?_

She examined her behavior, the way she had moved against him in the darkness, the bold way she had touched him when he allowed her to do so. She wasn’t ashamed, not really. After all, she had propositioned Daeron with no worries at all about the consequences. Maker knew, she was not shy when she wanted something.

But this was different.

When she lay with Daeron, her main goal had been to simply _experience_ it. She had enjoyed it…but in many ways, she was detached from it while it happened. She wanted to learn from it. She wanted to see what all the fuss was about. But she never became (she blushed again, when she found the right word) _impassioned_.

Last night, however, a strange feeling came over her. Her whole body ached for Alistair’s touch. The taste and smell of his skin had burned through her senses like white-hot pokers. She wanted him inside of her more than she wanted air or water. If he would have been willing, she would made love to him all night.

She shivered at the memory, and realized that Alistair’s warm arm was currently pressed against her bare breasts. As soon as the awareness came, her nipples stiffened in response. She fought the urge to move his hand to her breast and kiss him. If he woke in that state, he would likely respond to her naturally instead of holding back.

_Am I seriously considering this? Trying to use his exhaustion as part of my new seduction technique?_

_Seduction._ Another word that caused her cheeks to burn.

_I am officially a seductress. Not a very good one, but all the same…_

She giggled, then quickly bit down on her bottom lip to stop. Alistair moved in his sleep and his arm brushed against her nipples. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she bit her lip even harder.

_What is happening to me?_

She had no idea that she was even capable of that kind of want. It felt…odd. A small part of her couldn’t help but feel like her body was not completely her own.

For some reason, she heard Irving’s voice in her head. _Only mages can be possessed by demons…and you are no mage._

She could still see the tiny bead of sweat that drifted down Alistair’s chest. At the time, it had seemed like an invitation to touch him, like his body was yearning for her as much as she yearned for him. She wondered if her eyes betrayed the hunger she felt when she touched his skin…if her eyes were golden, like the dragon’s eyes in her dream.

_Get a grip! So you wanted to lie with him! It is natural. There is nothing…wrong with you!_

Still…she couldn’t stop the nagging feeling. Why had she suddenly, without warning, felt such a raw need for his touch? What changed? She probed her feelings for him, and found that they were much the same as they had always been. She cared for him…probably more than she should. She enjoyed his company, his kisses, and…yes, she enjoyed his body. But she had never felt an unquenchable thirst for him…until last night. It was totally foreign to her, and she couldn’t figure out what had come over her.

Alistair snored loudly, closing his mouth suddenly and rolling over. His movement gave her an opportunity to escape, and she took it quickly. She slid from the bed, careful not to make a sound. She had to search for a moment to find her shirt…it had somehow gotten wedged under Alistair’s bed. She grabbed her boots and fled barefoot down the ladder.

She dressed quickly, desperate for fresh air.

She opened the stable doors quietly, stepping out into the cool morning. She heard the throaty call of the water birds that gathered near the shore of Lake Calanhad. In the distance, she could hear the faint sound of hammering. The men did not rest in their mission to restore the outer fortifications. She considered going to check on their progress.

She began feeling more like herself. She stretched her arms over head, breathing in the salty air of Lake Calanhad and quickening her pace.

Her stomach growled. She had a sudden desire for ale and smoked fish.

She stopped in her tracks, shaking her head.

_How strange._

Alistair persuaded her to try the smoked fish when they first arrived in Redcliffe. He loved it when he was a child, and was convinced that she would enjoy it as much as him. Having grown up in the Coastlands, Elissa had eaten her fair share of seafood. But the smell from the smokehouses that lined the Redcliffe docks was mildly unpleasant to her. It was the reason she had not joined Sten on any of his fishing expeditions. Unlike the soft, flaky ocean fish that she was used to, the little fish from Lake Calanhad were chewy and dense, more scales than flesh. The smoked fish tasted strange to her…too salty and oily, and she had only been able to stomach a single bite.  

Yet she was absolutely _craving_ it now.

Moreover, she _usually_ preferred wine to ale, and never drank any alcohol this early in the day. But her throat was practically burning for a pint…and perhaps something stronger to top it off.

She decided to walk to the tavern. If her strange craving went away by the time she got there, as she was hoping it would, she could at least check in with Zevran to see how he managed his mission.

They had discussed their options the previous day, before the meeting with Bann Hessal. Elissa was convinced that Arl Eamon must have had some information that allowed him the upper hand when dealing with Hessal. His pompous attitude was too much to be mere coincidence…he was obviously trying to improve his position now that Eamon was out of the picture.

She and Zevran discussed the strategy privately, careful to assure that no one else knew of their plans. She knew that Alistair and Teagan would disapprove and that Leliana would consider it a slight on her own formidable skills. Nonetheless, Leliana’s dinner with the Bann had resulted in no change, and thus Zevran’s scheme was their last hope. If he was able to pull it off, then he would be in his room at the tavern…and likely, not alone.

She sighed, hoping the elf was successful. Their final meeting with Bann Hessal would happen today, and she was desperate for the upper hand.

As she made her way to the tavern, she started humming. The notes were random at first, but after a while, the tune seemed familiar.

Suddenly, the words came to her out of nowhere.

 

_Green as the willow_

_Green as the sea_

_My lovely one_

_Your sweet eyes hold me_

 

_Green as the valley_

_Gold like the sun_

_Close your sweet eyes_

_My lovely one_

 

The song was old, of that she was certain. It sounded like a lullaby. Perhaps it was something she heard in her childhood?

She slowed down. The memory overwhelmed her. She could feel the warmth of a hand on her brow, the touch full of love. It made her feel safe, comforted. She was certain…someone sang this song to her when she was a child…sang it to her as she fell asleep. She could hear a woman’s voice, but she couldn’t place it. It was not her mother or Nan.

But who? And why would she remember it now?

She placed a trembling hand to her head. _What is happening to me? Why do I feel so…strange?_

She looked up the hill and saw the tavern. She quickened her pace.

If she _was_ going insane, she was damned sure _not_ doing it while sober.

<<>> 

Zevran sat up in the narrow bed and stretched his arms over his head. He was well aware that such a movement would emphasize his narrow chest and fine features. He also knew that the sun was shining on his body in the perfect way to highlight his dark skin and the deep tattoo that circled his left nipple.

As planned, the young man, who had been standing by the window, turned and gazed at him, his look full of appreciation. Zevran flashed him an innocent smile and opened his arms in invitation. The boy did not hesitate. He quickly crossed the room and was nestled in Zevran’s arms.

Zevran smiled. _I am the fisherman…and you are in my net, little fish._

The boy’s soft fingers began tracing the tattoo. “I wish my father would allow me to get one of these.”

Zevran began running his fingers up and down the boy’s bare back. “It is a painful process.”

The boy huffed. “Pain doesn’t matter.” He leaned down and kissed Zevran’s chest. “I would like to have an image of a dragon, curled around my shoulder. And I would want the tip of his tail to lie just…” he flicked his tongue out and touched Zevran’s brown nipple, “…here”

Zevran laughed. “Perhaps you could come to Antiva someday. There is an old Dalish woman there who knows the secrets of the valleslin. The price is dear, but her work is beautiful.”

The boy shook his blond hair, leaning back to look into Zevran’s eyes. He reached out and traced the line of his jaw. “ _You_ are beautiful, Zevran. You are the first elf I have ever met. Well, aside from my servants, I mean.”

Zevran was glad he despised the boy a little. It made the whole thing so much simpler. The angry flush that spread over his cheeks looked exactly like a flush of embarrassment. He even leaned his head down, shyly, to improve on the effect. “I assume your father would not be pleased if you bedded his servants.”

The boy’s eyes darkened. “He beds the females all the time. His problem would be more with my choice of sex rather than race.”

Zevran sighed, careful to sound sympathetic. “You should not have to hide what you do to please him, Renault. He should love you for who you are.”

The boy stood, running his hands through his blond curls. He poured himself a glass of wine. “It is not that simple in a family like ours. Nobility and its rules. Everything is blood and lineage and the future. My older brother will be the Bann when father dies, and I will be the leader of his forces. My desires and pursuits must be…manly. I must keep my image untarnished.”

Zevran stood, placing his hands and Renault’s back. He began to massage him slowly. “Such sacrifices are necessary, I suppose. I imagine you have had to give up a great deal as the son of the Bann.”

The boy rolled his head back, enjoying the massage. “You have no idea.”

_Ahh, yes. The nobility do love their tales of woe._

Zevran focused on kneading the tension out his shoulders. Renault groaned in pleasure, seeming to forget their conversation. Zevran didn’t mind.

_Too much noise, and the fish will flee. I must be patient._

Renault sighed. “My brother and I must be perfect. We have no privacy, no chance at a life outside of father’s demands. Of course, we are luckier than our sister.”

Zevran was careful to keep his hands moving. “Oh? I did not know the Bann had a daughter.”

Renault sniffed. “Not many people do. It is a very great secret. She is supposed to be dead, you see.”

Zevran ran his hands lower. “Was she a bastard?”

Renault shook his head. “Oh no, nothing as tawdry as that. My father is very careful about that sort of thing. Whenever one of the elven servants gets into trouble, he sends them away. There is a reason that the alienages are full of little human orphans. Human blood always wins out, you see. And my father is not the only nobleman that enjoys his servants.”

Zevran’s eyes narrowed, but he was careful to keep his voice light. “Did your sister look like you?”

Renault took a drink of wine and shrugged. “From what little I remember. She had blond hair, blue eyes. She was only a year older than me. But she disappointed father, and was sent away. We never speak of her, now.”

Zevran leaned forward, letting his breath touch Renault’s back. “What did she do that was so offensive to him? Did she fall in love with an unworthy man?”

Renault shook his head. “No. She was only a child when the templars came for her.”

Zevran smiled. _The patient fisherman always gets the fish._

He continued rubbing the Renault’s shoulders. He would likely have to sleep with him again to keep up appearances, but it was not a burden. Renault, while inexperienced, had high stamina and made love with no inhibitions. Zevran had slept with far worse than this spoiled noble brat to get information. He only hoped the boy would finish quickly. He needed to speak with Elissa and Leliana as soon as possible.

Zevran decided to speed up the process. He turned the boy around and gazed into his eyes. He cupped his face and leaned in, kissing him passionately. Renault responded eagerly, as predicted. As Zevran pulled him to the bed, the boy looked at him longingly. He leaned down and bit Zevran’s neck, just below the earlobe. His breath was warm against Zevran’s ear when he whispered, his voice husky. “I wish father would leave me here. Then we could screw all day and all night and never stop!”

Zevran leaned back and smiled at the beautiful boy. This time, it was sincere.

He couldn’t stop that thinking that if anyone was getting screwed today, it was going to be Bann Hessal.

<<>> 

Alistair woke to an empty bed. He stared up at the ceiling and sighed.

_Why am I not surprised?_

He sat up, running his fingers through his short hair. He allowed himself a few moments to remember the previous evening. The feeling of Elissa’s soft skin against his, the way she kissed him, the way her hands moved over his skin.

_Too good to be true._

Except that it was true. She had wanted to lie with him, to be with _him_. And he, fool that he was, had convinced her to wait.

_Still…it wasn’t a total loss._

He closed his eyes for a moment to remember the best part of the evening. It was when she finally fell asleep in his arms. He watched her for a time, tracing her face with his fingers, careful not wake her. He marveled over how her body seemed to respond to his, the way she moved towards his touch, even in her sleep. He kissed her cheeks as she slept, and she murmured in her sleep and nestled into him. Those quiet moments meant more to him than the spectacular feeling of her hands on him.

_Although, to be fair, that was amazing as well. Unexpected, but still…pretty amazing._

He sighed again, rising from the bed and finding his clothes. He splashed some water on his face, trying to ignore the throbbing sensation in his pants. Perhaps it was a good idea to stop thinking about her hands.

He was still rather shocked at how… _forward_ …she had been with him. Her actions seemed so unexpected, though not completely unwanted. She was normally so reserved with him, and always changed the subject when he tried to talk about his feelings. But the way she looked at him, the way she touched him…

_Alright. Enough! If you keep this up, you will have to take a dip in the lake to be in any kind of state for the meeting today._

Part of him felt like an idiot for not accepting her advances. After all, they came close to the final act anyway. But Alistair couldn’t help it. He wanted to wait. He didn’t want to explain to her exactly what he was waiting for, because it would cost him too much to tell her.

He loved her. And he wanted her to love him in return.

He did not want to lie with her, to share that part of himself with her, unless she felt the same. He knew it was old-fashioned, but he couldn’t help it. He never had strong feelings for a woman before her. Honestly, he never thought he would. But something about her moved him. Or rather, moved _everything_ around him. It was like the whole world suddenly shifted. From the moment he first met her, Alistair felt like he was trying to navigate a new universe.

_And naturally, I am a bumbling idiot about it._

He heard the door to the stables open, and quickly combed his hair and pulled on his boots. He rushed down the ladder, relieved that she had returned.

He was surprised to see Teagan standing in the doorway. Alistair smiled and moved towards him. His smile faltered however when he saw Teagan’s face. The Bann looked slightly uncomfortable. Alistair approached him.

“Teagan? What are you doing here so early?”

Teagan shifted uneasily. “Alistair…I wonder if you would mind taking a walk with me.”

Alistair shrugged. “Umm…sure.”

They walked together towards the castle. Teagan sighed a few times, but did not say anything. Alistair rubbed the back of his neck, and started to feel rather anxious. Finally, Teagan spoke, without looking at him.

“Alistair. I am…concerned.”

Alistair’s shoulders tensed. “What about?”

Teagan sighed, speaking slowing. “I…saw Lady Cousland leave the stables this morning.”

Alistair stopped walking. He was suddenly annoyed with his sort-of-uncle. “And?”

Teagan stopped and turned towards him. “I’ll come right out with it then. What exactly is the nature of your relationship with Lady Cousland?”

Alistair crossed his arms. "That is really none of your business, Teagan.”

Teagan sighed “So it is as I feared. How long has this been going on?”

Alistair was turning red. “She and I have been through a lot together, Teagan. It’s…come on…rather slowly.”

“I am not a fool, Alistair. And neither are you. You must realize that the civil strife could be lessened if someone with a strong claim to the throne…”

Alistair took a step back, holding up his hands. “Absolutely not!”

“I know you don’t like the idea, but…”

“I despise the idea! I have been told my whole life that it had _nothing_ to do with me. I am a Grey Warden now, anyway. I can’t even…”

Teagan shook his head. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. You must realize that were you to take the throne, Lady Cousland would be the worst…”

Alistair cut him off. “If…and that is a very big if…I were to take the throne, Elissa would make a wonderful queen. She is smart, noble…”

“She is also dangerous and…unstable. Surely you know this about her?”

Alistair was furious. He bit his tongue to keep from punching Teagan in the mouth. “It doesn’t matter. Look at all she has done, Teagan! If not for her, we would all be dead by now!”

Teagan sighed. “I am not debating her prowess on the battlefield, Alistair. But it takes more than that to rule. But that is beside the point. I am more concerned about her effect on you, personally.”

Alistair was taken aback. “Are you serious? What does that mean?”

“She is not good for you, Alistair. Surely you see this?”

Alistair could feel his temper rising again. “Oh, I get it. I am supposed to take your advice in this? Are you sure it isn’t jealously? After all, you _were_ a candidate for her hand.”

Teagan straightened his shoulders. “That is irrelevant. And quite frankly, I am relieved it did not come to that. Think of what she almost did to Isolde!”

“She made a hard decision, Teagan, but…”

“But it did not come to pass…only because others with clearer heads were there with her. If left to her own devices, she would have consented to blood magic, Alistair. She would have killed an innocent woman! You cannot condone her actions!”

“I don’t! But I do…understand them.”

“Yes. That is the problem.”

“What do you mean?”

Teagan sighed. “Alistair…a women like her…she is powerful. Persuasive. If you continue with this relationship, what will you become?”

Alistair crossed his arms. “I imagine I’ll still be myself. You talk about her like…like she has some power to change me.”

Teagan held up his hands. “Her will is strong. Do you really want to follow her around forever? To become smaller and smaller in her shadow?”

Alistair’s face turned red. “That is not how it is!”

“Then why are you not the leader of your company?”

Alistair balled up his fists. “Because…because I don’t deserve to lead. After what happened to Duncan, to the others. And she…she took the reins when I couldn't. But despite all of that she still…she…respects me! She listens to me! She doesn’t…she doesn’t…” Alistair faltered, remembering her words when she tried to apologize to him.

_I don’t have to listen to you Alistair. I am the leader of this group._

Teagan took the advantage. “You know I am not being unjust here, Alistair. Consider what she said about Bann Hessal. You thought it was a joke, at the time, but I think she would do it. She would kill him without hesitation.”

Alistair stirred from his thoughts. “Alright. Maybe she would consider killing him. But maybe he needs to die.”

“Is more death the answer here? Consider that her motivations may not be so pure. She is trying to stop the Blight, yes…but she is also out for revenge. Her bloodlust for the men who destroyed her home may far outweigh her duty. And if she chooses such a path, it will be almost impossible to steer her away from it. And if you grow to love her, then you will follow her…even if the path is wrong. You cannot let yourself be blinded to her true nature.”

Alistair started to respond but faltered again, thinking about the Dalish.

_She convinced Zathrian to end the curse…but only after she realized how unstable the werewolves were._

Teagan reached out placing a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t want her to…change you, Alistair. You are a good man.”

Alistair shook his head. “You are overestimating both her malice as well as her hold on me.”

Teagan considered his words. “Perhaps. But I am convinced that you _underestimate_ her. Her father was the same way. Why do you think the Couslands held so much power? Teryn Cousland was a charismatic man, fearless and willful. And she has those same qualities. Yet she is also more dangerous than he ever was because she does not have the wise council that he had.”

“She has me!”

“True…but only if you distance yourself from her emotionally.”

Alistair shrugged away from Teagan’s touch. He was upset, but trying not to show it. “I don’t want to hear anymore. You don’t know her, Teagan. She has goodness in her. You just haven’t seen it like I have.”

“You may be right, Alistair. But what if it is not enough?”

“If she goes down the wrong path, then I will help her. I will stop her. And I can love her at the same time.”

Teagan’s eyes widened. “Love? Alistair…you barely know her!”

Alistair turned away from him, trying to control his anger. “I appreciate your concern, but I do not want to talk about this anymore. I know what I feel and I don’t have to justify it to you. I can take care of myself.”

Teagan sighed. “I am sorry to upset you Alistair. But you need to consider my words. Please. Can you do that?”

Alistair shrugged. “Fine. Now if you don’t mind… I want to be alone.”

“Of course. We meet with Bann Hessal at noon. I will see you there.”

Alistair turned and watched Teagan walk towards the castle.

_He is wrong about her. I know it. And I will not let her fail. I can help her. I know I can._

He kept repeating those words to himself as he walked. Still…he was unable to completely disregard Teagan’s warning.

<<>> 

Roland was by himself at a small table. His stomach was growling, and the ale was doing little to appease his appetite as he waited for his food. He considered going back upstairs and spending a few more hours with Bella. After all, they would be leaving Redcliffe soon enough.

He took a deep breath. His skin still smelled like her. Like cinnamon and clean linen. It was pleasant.

Before he could decide, the tavern door opened. Elissa walked slowly through it, looking somewhat lost and disheveled. Her hair was a mess, hanging down around her shoulders, and her shirt was wrinkled. She glanced around the room and caught his eye.

Immediately, he knew something was wrong.

He stood quickly, reaching in her a few strides. He had to ball his hands into fists to keep from grabbing her. “What’s wrong?”

She looked shocked to see him. She blushed, shaking her head quickly. “Nothing. I am fine.”

Roland continued staring at her, and she shook her head again. “Honestly, Roland. All is well. I just…I just needed a drink.”

He raised his eyebrows at that. “A drink? At this hour?”

She snapped at him. “What of it? You’re drinking, aren’t you?”

He felt his tension dissolve. Biting his head off after only a few words? This was the Elissa he knew. He shrugged, turning to walk away. “Do as you please.”

She grabbed his arm. “Wait. I’m…sorry, Roland. I had…a strange night and it has been an even stranger morning. I don’t…I don’t feel like myself.”

He looked at her closely. He reached up without thinking, all thoughts of Bella and her bed safely out of his mind. He cupped her chin in his hand, turning her head to the light so he could look in her eyes for any sign of change. She didn’t pull away or even look annoyed as he examined her. Apparently, she was as worried as him.

Roland took his time, looking for any sign of the darkness…dilated pupils, shaking hands, heavy breathing. If she went under in the tavern, word would spread like wildfire through the village. They would likely be chased out of town with torches and pitchforks. His mind quickly formed a plan of escape, just in case. He calculated how long it would take him to carry her to the wooded area around the village. He would need time alone with her to calm her.

Despite their mutual concern, her eyes seemed fine, blue and bright, though she looked slightly panicked. Her hands were not shaking, though she was fidgeting with her hair now, trying to brush the tangles out with her fingers.

Her stomach growled loudly and he raised his eyebrows. After moment, he dropped his hand from her chin. He put his other hand on her arm and started pulling her towards his table. “You need to eat. Come…sit down with me. Food is on its way, and they always serve too much. I don’t think the wine here is very good, but maybe…”

Her stomach rumbled again as she sat down. She shook her head. “Ale will be fine.”

He nodded, signaling to the barkeep to bring her a pint. He leaned back, watching her closely. As soon as her ale was in her hand, she took a long drink, almost finishing it in a single gulp. He was surprised…but said nothing. He motioned to the barkeep to bring them two more.

They sat together drinking in silence until the server brought out Roland’s food. The smoked fish were served in large pot, sizzling atop roasted potatoes and carrots. The pungent smell filled the tavern and Roland’s mouth immediately started watering.

Elissa didn’t hesitate. She reached in and grabbed one of the small fish, chewing it and sighing contently. Roland did the same, watching her closely as they ate. She seemed to calm down now that she was eating, and Roland was relieved. They ate in companionable silence for a while, both focused on their meal.

When they were finished, Elissa groaned in pleasure, licking her oily fingers. “I just…can’t get enough of these little fish. They are so…good!”

Roland nodded, popping the last chewy morsel into his mouth and savoring the taste. “I had to lay in bed and smell them from my window, salivating the whole time…while Wynne forced me to eat porridge and milk. Zevran snuck some into me once, but Wynne smelled them in my room after he left and threatened to curse him if he brought me more.” He leaned back, closing his eyes and rubbing his stomach. “Honestly, I think my craving for these fish is what finally made me rebel against her. I couldn’t take it anymore.” After moment, he opened his eyes and saw that Elissa was staring at him.

“What?”

She smiled slightly. “You seem…better. Your appetite is back, at any rate. How do you feel?”

He shrugged. “I feel fine. My chest is a little sore, but I think it has fully healed. It is nice to be out of that damned room. I thought I was going crazy, being locked up like that.”

Elissa nodded. She took a drink of ale and looked at him again. “I was…very worried about you.”

Roland tensed up, ready for her to start yelling at him. Instead, she sighed. Her voice was soft. “I hate worrying about you, Roland. It scares me and it…makes me angry…to be afraid like that. I thought the fever was going to…that you wouldn’t…”

He leaned forward, staring at his hands. “I won’t lie, Elissa…I thought the same. When I was…conscious, anyway.” He gave her a small smile. “You seem better now, as well. Feeling like yourself again?”

Elissa shifted uncomfortably. “Somewhat. I just felt a little off for a while. Perhaps I was merely…hungry.”

Roland nodded, though he still watched her closely. The color was back in her cheeks and she did seem more like herself.

Suddenly, he pushed away from the table and stood. “Let’s have a drink.” She raised her eyebrows and looked at her mug, pointedly. He shook his head. “I mean a _real_ drink. To celebrate my recovery and your…satiated appetite.” She laughed and he walked to the bar, bringing back two small glasses and bottle of dark liquid. He pulled the cork out with his teeth and poured them both a drink. “It is strong, but you seem to be in the mood for drink. I know I am.”

Elissa smiled. She raised her glass to his in a silent toast and drank the fiery liquid in one gulp. She coughed, her eyes streaming, and Roland patted her on the back. He hid a smirk and poured them both another.

She shook her head. “Whiskey in the morning? I can’t believe I am participating.” She took a small drink this time, her cheeks already flushed.

Roland smiled, taking a sip of his own. “Careful. I have a tolerance for it, but if you indulge too much, I’ll have to carry you back to the castle. Then it will be your turn to suffer under Wynne’s ministrations.”

Elissa returned his smile, and took another sip. “She is a formidable woman, but I think she likes me. _You_ , however, are not her favorite person at the moment.”

Roland shrugged. “I doubt I am _anyone’s_ favorite person. It is the curse of being a northerner.”

Elissa smiled. “Are you implying that we northerners are difficult to love?”

Roland cracked a small smile in return and shrugged. “That has been my experience.” He faltered, looking down at his glass.

After a moment, he felt her hand on his. He looked up, and she was staring at him, her face solemn. “I stayed with you, you know. I refused to leave until your fever broke.”

He looked down to his drink, his voice softening. “I could hear your voice sometimes. It was hard to tell if I was dreaming or awake. I just had to lay there…burning. I even dreamed I was on fire.” He heard her breath catch, and looked up at her.

Elissa looked away, her cheeks flushing from more than the drink. After a few moments, she looked back at him, her face serious. “Roland…have you been having…other…strange dreams?”

He was surprised. “Yes. I mean…they are…the same as they always are. Just…more vibrant than usual, and it is difficult to wake from them. Wynne said it was from the fever working its way out of my system.”

She looked frustrated, pulling her hand back from his. “Of course. You have been so ill…of course you would have terrible dreams.” She took another sip of whiskey, then laughed ruefully. “It’s always me, isn’t it? My damaged mind and all the trouble it brings.” She shook her head and took another drink.

Roland clenched his jaw. “Stop that.”

She looked surprised. “Stop what?”

He crossed his arms. “Stop talking about yourself like…like there is something wrong with you. You know it pisses me off.”

She leaned back, crossing her own arms in response. “I was trained to look at myself, Roland. To see myself with open eyes and not be afraid of what is there.”

Roland shook his head, reaching for his drink. “Well your training was shit. Because you do not see yourself clearly at all.”

She was getting angry. “Oh, and you do? I beg you…dazzle me with your insight.”

Roland sighed. “You have your faults...plenty of them, in fact. But you are not _damaged_. I won’t let anyone say that you are…not even you.”

She shook her head. She seemed to be struggling to find the right words. “Maybe that was true before. But Roland…things are different now. I feel…lost. Maybe it was becoming a Grey Warden, I think it has…changed me.”

“How so?”

She sighed. “It is not one big thing. It is many little things.”

“Explain.”

She sighed again. “You wouldn’t understand. Roland. _You_ are still the same person. _You_ can get through a night of sleep without dreaming of burning windmills and dragon fire…”

He grabbed her hand. It was more a reflex than anything else. The image from his dream forced its way into his mind. It was vibrant, as if he were there again, reliving the horror of it.

He could smell the burning flesh of the villagers. He could hear them screaming, begging for help. He ran through the fire, frantically searching for her. He looked up to the sky when he heard the dragon shriek. He could see Elissa, standing on the ledge of the windmill, a white dress billowing around her. When the blades ripped from the side of the mill, he started running.

Elissa’s eyes opened wide. She tried to pull her hand away, but Roland held onto it. He could feel his lungs burning as he ran up the steps. He could see her opening her arms to the beast. He ran forward without thinking, grabbing her, before the flames could claim her.

Elissa’s lip trembled. “Stop!” She ripped her hand from his and stood quickly.

Roland let go of the breath he had been holding. He took inhaled deeply, shaking the terrible dream from his thoughts.

Elissa looked down at him, her eyes opened wide. “How did you…?”

Before she could finish, the barkeep made a loud noise of surprise and rushed to the center of the room. He started bowing, mopping his large sweaty forehead with an oily cloth.

Roland and Elissa both looked towards the stairs and saw Bann Hessal’s youngest son, Renault, sauntering down the steps.

The barkeep bowed again. “My Lord! I am honored to have you in my humble establishment. Would you like…”

Renault held a haughty hand up to the blubbering barkeep. His eyes flicked to Elissa and Roland, and his cheeks reddened slightly. He halted for a moment, looking undecided. He glanced at their table and saw the empty glasses. After a moment, he approached them. As he moved in their direction, Roland stood to place himself beside Elissa.

When he reached Elissa, Renault bowed, slightly. “Grey Warden! A…pleasure…yes…a pleasure to see you!” He laughed, his voice shaking. “You must be preparing to meet with my father again today. I tend to have a few drinks myself on such occasions.”

Elissa still looked stunned. She shook her head, answering the young man slowly. “Yes…our meetings have been…trying.”

Renault laughed, a little too loudly. “I can imagine! Never fear, good lady. My father will do what is best, I am sure.” He looked at Roland. “And you must be the Highever knight I have heard so much about. Good to see you out and about again! I am sorry…I cannot stay to chat. My father is expecting me.” He faltered for moment, dropping his voice. “If…if you don’t mind, I would appreciate if you didn’t mention this little meeting to my father. He does not approve of…taverns.”

Elissa nodded absently, and Renault bowed again, leaving the inn quickly.

Roland turned to Elissa. “Well that was…strange. What do you suppose he’s hiding?”

Elissa looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Roland…did you…?”

The barkeep made a disgruntled noise, and both Roland and Elissa looked towards him. They followed his suspicious gaze and saw Zevran moving cat-like down the steps. The elf had a serene look on his face and was whistling. When he saw them, his face broke into a grin.

“Ah…just who I wanted to see.” He jumped lightly down the final steps and turned to the barkeep. “If you would be so kind, I require breakfast. I had a rather…busy night.”

The barkeep mumbled something incoherent and stomped angrily back to his bar. Zevran approached Elissa, completely unconcerned by the man’s obvious dislike of him. “My fair warden, you do look pale this morning! But it is of no consequence. I have news that may put some color into your cheeks.”

Elissa seemed to forget Roland, pulling Zevran down to the table. “You were successful?”

Zevran rolled his eyes dramatically. “You doubted me? I told you, fair warden…the lips that are kissed spill the most secrets. And I am a very good kisser.”

Roland sat heavily, realizing what was happening _. Elissa had Zevran bed the Bann’s son to gather information?_  Roland felt suddenly angry. He considered Zevran a true friend, and did not like that he had been used in such a way.

Elissa’s eyes found his and she looked angry. “I did not _use_ him, Roland. It was _his_ suggestion in the first place!”

Roland raised his eyebrows. “I…did not say anything, Elissa.”

Elissa gritted her teeth. “You…you didn’t have to. I can feel your judgement, Roland.”

Roland leaned back, holding his breath. Suddenly, the room seemed a little too bright. He looked down at his drink, trying to gather his thoughts.

Elissa turned from him and stared at Zevran. “What did you find out?”

Zevran leaned forward, dropping his voice. “The Bann’s only daughter is a mage. She was sent to a Circle in the Free Marches, as far from the Bann as possible. He abhors the thought of anyone knowing about it. He has done all he can to avoid Wynne and Irving during his stay, terrified that they might know his secret.”

Elissa smiled and leaned back. “Perfect! We have him!”

Roland did not smile. He continued staring at his drink.

_The dream. When I thought of it, when I touched her…it felt like…she could see it too. But that is impossible. Isn’t it?_

Elissa and Zevran were whispering together excitedly. Neither noticed Roland walk to the bar and order another drink.

He sipped it slowly. Something was tickling the edges of his consciousness, but he fought it down.

_Something is wrong…._

He motioned to the barkeep to give him another small bottle of whiskey and walked back to the table. Elissa was animated now, seeming to forget her previous worry. Roland looked at her closely, noting the way she tapped her fingers on her whiskey glass impatiently. Roland silently filled her glass and she took a drink, her eyes not leaving Zevran’s.

Roland leaned back. He tried to remember the last time he and Elissa shared whiskey in the morning. It was a long time ago, he knew that. A feeling of sadness swept through him as he tried to remember it.

The memory came to him suddenly, and Roland gripped the table as it filled him.

*****

Orwath was sitting by the castle gate. The morning fog was just starting to clear, and the northern wind was chilly. His large shoulders were slumped and his eyes were empty. His massive hands were bandaged, but he seemed to feel no pain.

Elissa and Roland sat on one side of him, and Fergus sat on the other. No one spoke. They passed a bottle of whiskey back and forth between them. All were somber, and well on the way to being completely drunk.

Orwath would close his eyes to drink, passing the bottle without a word, and then open them again to stare blankly across the fields.

Elissa cleared her throat, the first to speak, as usual. “Madeline would not want to see you hurt yourself, Orwath.”

Orwath did not answer. He clenched his bandaged fists, and Roland saw a fresh bloom of blood on one of his bandages. He shivered, remembering the way the man tore at his own hair and punched the walls when he found out that his wife died in childbirth.

Fergus placed a hand on the large man’s shoulder. “Madeline was a good woman. We all feel her loss. But you must be strong, Orwath. Your child needs you now.”

Orwath closed his eyes again, hanging his head.

Roland took a sip of whiskey, grimacing at the potent taste. He passed the bottle back to Elissa. She glanced up at him, her eyes pleading with him to say something to the grieving knight. Roland sighed. He shook his head, telling her without words what she already knew.

No words would make Orwath forget the death of his wife. He needed time.

The memory shifted.

Roland was covered in blood. He was lying in the main hall, his head spinning. He felt large hands pull him from the ground. Once his eyes focused, he saw Orwath’s large face in front of him. He had his hands clasped around Roland’s shoulders and was shaking him slightly.

“Ser Gilmore! You have to go! The castle has fallen. You have to find the Teryn.”

Roland fell forward and the large man held him up. He felt himself being moved, the sound of fighting all around him. Orwath led him from the hall.

The memory shifted again.

Orwath was lying in Roland’s arms, blood bubbling from his lips. An arrow was sticking out his chest.

Roland looked down into the man’s eyes, a feeling of hopelessness filling him. Orwath was pleading with him.

“Do it, Gilmore! I want to see my wife. I want to see Maddy again. Please!”

Roland placed the knife to his throat. Orwath stared at him in gratitude. “My boy is in Denerim with his aunt. Find him. Tell him I loved him. Tell him he saved me, even though I wasn’t ever there for him. Make sure he knows, Gilmore.”

Roland closed his eyes as he dragged the blade across Orwath’s throat. As the blood gushed over his hand, Roland felt his own throat burning. He felt something pouring from his mouth but it was not blood. It was a cry of pain, a desperate plea to the Maker to forgive him.

*****

Roland opened his eyes, unclenching the table. He realized that Elissa and Zevran had stopped talking. Zevran was looking back and forth between the two of them with an odd expression on his face.

Elissa was staring at Roland, her eyes registering shock.

Roland stood quickly, his legs knocking against the table. He heard a glass shatter. He heard Elissa call to him, but he kept moving. He stumbled almost blindly to the door of the tavern. He felt the morning air around him, bright light against his eyes, but he still felt as if he were suffocating.

He rushed towards the wooded area near the tavern. His stomach turned over, and he could feel the whiskey working its way back up his throat. He swallowed it down.

Just as he reached the forest line, he felt her hands grab his arm. He pulled away. She grabbed him again, and he turned, helpless. His throat was working and his eyes were burning, but he was determined not to cry.

He could see the werewolf, clutching her pendant, the same pendant that he delivered to her husband. He could feel his blade sinking into her neck.

He closed his eyes and tried to block it out, but he could feel the warmth of her blood on his hands. He could feel Orwath’s blood mixed with wolf’s blood. All of that blood seemed to fill his mind and he could not escape it.

The images seemed burned into his mind and he pulled his arms up to cover his face with his hands. But nothing could block out the shame he felt.

He felt something pulling at him, but he couldn’t understand what it was.

Something hit his knees hard, and he slumped forward. He felt pressure all around him, something trying to get into his thoughts. He fought against it, at first, but after a few moments, he gave up.

He didn’t care anymore. He let it come.

It filled him suddenly. It was not the crushing grief he expected. Instead, it was something warm like the sun, but as strong as steel. Something holding him from the outside, but filling him up at the same time. Something taking the pain from him.

He heard her voice, inside and outside, all at once. He reached for it, either with his mind or his hands…or maybe both. It did not matter. He needed it so badly, that he did not care anymore how he got it. He would beg for it to stay if he had to, if only to block out the terrible memories that had been haunting him for weeks.

He could feel her cradling his head against her shoulder. He realized he was on his knees with his hands covering his face, yet somehow she was holding him. And she was inside of him as well. He could feel…her…moving inside of him, more real than his own flesh.

She was comforting him. She was forgiving him. She was part of him.

_I am so sorry. I am so sorry._

_Stop, Roland. I am here. I am here with you._

_He asked me to do it. I swear it, he begged me to die._

_I know. I saw._

_I can’t stop thinking about it. It follows me everywhere, like a curse._

_Oh, Roland, what can I do? Tell me. Let me help you._

_I don’t know. I feel like I am shattering into pieces._

_No. I won’t let you. Never. Never._

He felt her forgiveness swell in him, a fierce presence that kept him from drowning in his despair. He could feel the tenor of her thoughts, the comfort pouring from her mind into his. Her thoughts fit perfectly inside his head. It was like they were filling some void that had been waiting for her.

For the first time in his life, he was not alone.

_No. Not alone. Never alone._

_Is this real?_

_I don’t know. But I could see it all. I could feel it. I was there with you, Roland. And I am here now._

Roland pulled away from her. He rocked back on his knees and let his hands fall from his face. He opened his eyes and saw her sitting in front of him. Her hands were on his shoulders and her eyes were burning into his.

“Are we crazy, Elissa? Or…is it just me?”

She shook her head, swallowing hard. “I don’t know, Roland. I don’t know what is happening.”

“You…you can hear me, right? Inside, I mean.”

She nodded her head, her eyes filling up with tears.

He reached out and grabbed her, pulling her into his arms. The connection between them seemed to intensify. He could feel himself being drawn into her, filling her with his pain. He tried to pull back, but she held him.

She whispered against his ear. “No…let it happen! Don’t be afraid.”

He could feel her certainty. He relented, opening himself completely.

He could feel her fear of what was happening, but at the same time…her sense of exhilaration. He let himself pour into her. It seemed to happen without any effort, as simple as falling asleep. It was the most intimate thing he had ever experienced in his life. And yet…it felt…right. As if…as if they were completing something that began long before either of them existed.

He relaxed now and tried to focus on the sensation. It felt like his mind was made of liquid, like they were being stirred together. Images began flitting through his mind.

_Elissa standing in the tall grass, turning towards him and smiling…_

_Oren’s tiny body pressed against her chest, her finger touching the tip of his tiny nose…_

_Roland holding his breath as she leaned down and pressed her lips against his palm…_

_Fergus spinning Oriana in wide circle, laughing…_

_A woman with sad eyes, singing to him and brushing his red hair back from his brow…_

_The moonlight from her window and the feeling of being trapped…_

He pulled his body back so he could look at her, but kept his hands on her shoulders. He stared into her eyes and saw himself reflected there. He felt like he was seeing himself and seeing her at the same time. He felt like there was nothing standing between them, no barrier of flesh or bone.

_An elven hand clutching a pendant, and a cry of pain that filled him with guilt…_

_Vanithan’s stern voice as she swung her blades, her arms heavy with exhaustion…_

_Eyes full of tears, making him promise to find her, to protect her…_

_Her father lifting her high into the air, and smiling at her…_

_The gleam of the Teryn’s sword in his hand, bright as the moon…_

_A bead of sweat on a tanned chest, and her finger reaching out to catch it…_

Roland dropped his hands. He pulled away from her, standing quickly. He felt the connection between them fade, seeming to fall into the background of his mind. It was painful, the feeling of losing her so abruptly when he needed her so desperately. But he couldn’t bear to see any more.

She stood slowly, looking at him with wide eyes. “Roland…did we just…what is happening?”

Roland shook his head, unable to speak.

Elissa was taking deep breaths. “Your fever. And the dreams. And the damned fish.” She looked at him sharply. “Roland, have you ever heard this song?” She sang the lullaby to him.

Roland’s chest constricted. “Where did you hear that?”

Elissa shook her head. “I don’t know. It just…I just heard it in my head this morning. But it was more like a memory. Only…I don’t think it was _my_ memory.” She fought the tears that were welling up in her eyes. “And we were in the same dream, Roland. I was there, on the ledge of the windmill…and I felt you grab me and pull me back from the flames. And there have been other dreams. And now I am craving ale and food that I do not like and last night I…didn’t feel like myself. And...now…now this! I don’t…”

“There you are! I have been looking everywhere for you!” Roland turned towards the voice and saw Alistair walking towards them. He looked out of breath, his eyes darting between them suspiciously.

Roland took a step back.

Elissa cleared her throat, speaking quickly. “Alistair. Hello. Umm…sorry for not…I mean…” She looked at Roland quickly, then back to Alistair. “Roland and I were just…talking.”

Roland watched as Alistair stepped closer to Elissa, his body language betraying the familiarity they had with one another. Roland had not seen them together since the arrival of the Lothering children. Although he did not like it then, it was easier to watch them from afar. It felt like a knife in his stomach to see them together, this close. He forced himself to look away before Alistair placed his hand on her shoulder.

Alistair cocked an eyebrow at her. “Oh? What about?”

Elissa continued to stammer. “Umm…Zevran has some information for us that may help with our meeting this afternoon.”

Roland could feel Elissa’s tension, her confusion. He tried again to block out her feelings, but it was difficult to do now. He couldn’t seem to shut it off completely. He looked at her, and saw her staring at him meaningfully. He raised his eyebrows.

_You don’t want him to know._

She looked away quickly, glancing at Alistair and then to the ground.

_Not yet. Not until we…understand it._

Roland dropped his own eyes. He realized that the two of them looked guilty, and did his best to seem nonchalant. He looked up and saw Zevran emerging from the tavern. He cleared his throat as the elf started to walk towards them. “The three of you have things to discuss that do not concern me. I’ll…leave you to it.”

Elissa spoke quickly. “Wait, where are you going? We haven’t finished our…discussion yet.”

Roland was suddenly angry, but he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was just annoyance at being interrupted during something so intimate. Maybe it was the implications of this strange connection between them. Maybe it was the last image that he pulled from her mind, and the sensation of desire attached to it. Maybe it was the fact that Alistair still had his hand on Elissa’s shoulder in odd, possessive way.

Maybe it was everything.

He turned back and looked at her. He took a deep breath and let the image of Bella’s sleeping form pass through his mind, of his fingers tracing the freckles on her shoulders, of his lips moving down her back.

Elissa stepped back, her face draining of color. She narrowed her eyes. “On second thought…never mind. I am sure you have plenty to occupy your…your…self!” She turned to Alistair, grabbing his hand and pulling him away with her. She signaled to Zevran to follow.

Zevran looked at Roland, his eyes burning with questions. Roland shook his head and the elf shrugged, turning to follow the wardens.

Roland watched them walk away together. He considered going back to the tavern and knocking on Bella’s door. Or, barring that, drinking as much whiskey as his belly could hold.

After a few moments, he decided neither would do him much good. Instead, he walked deeper into the forest, desperate to be alone with his thoughts.


End file.
